What No One Knew
by CupcakeCute
Summary: Sarah has grown up in the ten years since her adventure and has put it all behind her. When the Labyrinth is infiltrated by dark forces, Sarah is the only one who can stop them. Will she be willing to leave her safe and normal life to help the Goblin King when he needs her the most? JS. Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Labyrinth, nor will I ever. It belongs to Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

**Author's Note**: This is my first real fan fiction effort so reviews would be greatly appreciated!

Chapter One

"Going Home"

Sarah sat in the darkness before the glowing screen of the computer, unable to sleep. She dug her fingers into her scalp and grimaced at the blank white page that was digitally displayed before her. She had begun writing her first novel during her senior year of college and now, at twenty-five years old, she was experiencing writer's block so intense it blocked out everything else. Sarah took a few deep breaths and decided to take a break for the first time in hours. Uncurling her legs from beneath her with a pleasant stretch, she wandered from the seclusion of her small home office. The large bay windows of the living room let in early morning light. It was as if the sun had waited until the moment she could see it rise. The image of the early morning sun peering over the Connecticut coast should have filled her with inspiration, but her creative juices must have run dry.

For the past three years, ever since graduating from college, Sarah Williams had written novels, historical fiction rooted in fact and rich in detail. To fuel the creative process, she and her fiancé Derrick had moved around the United States, Europe, and even ventured to South America for inspiration on events and people to write about. They had rented homes and living off her book sales and Derrick's paychecks as a business consultant. Sarah liked the traveling; in fact, she was often the one to instigate it. After the marvelous adventure she had experienced ten years earlier, the world could not compare and she found herself constantly needing new locations and new explorations. Despite her best efforts, nothing ever came close to the Labyrinth. With a deep sigh, Sarah pushed the thought from her mind.

"Come on Sarah, time to grow up," she whispered at those treacherous thoughts and distracted herself with making coffee. She collided with the kitchen table as she walked through the darkened room and swore loudly, clutching her side.

"Baby, are you up?" came a groggy voice from down the hall. She had woken Derrick.

"Yeah," Sarah said back, swearing more softly and rubbing her bruised hip. Her thoughts still lingered on the Labyrinth as she busied herself with the coffee machine.

After her defeat of the Goblin King, Sarah and the friends that she had made in the Underground—Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and Ludo—had spoken very often through the mirror in her childhood bedroom. Although some part of her struggling to become an adult had doubts, even questioned her own sanity, Sarah was sure deep down that they were real. When she had gone off to college, they had stopped speaking as often, maybe once every few months. The communication ceased completely by her senior year, by that point Sarah was ready to graduate, in a serious relationship with Derrick, and had sent her first novel, a period piece about the conditions of English maids in the nineteenth century, off to several publishers. It had been nearly four years since she had spoken to them and now Sarah could not help but wonder if they had ever been there at all.

She poured herself a cup of coffee with a frown, the thought of her friends being mere figments of her imagination was terrible, it both frightened and depressed her. Sarah jumped as warm arms snaked around her back, sloshing hot coffee on her hands.

"Oh my God, ow!" she whimpered and pulled out of Derrick's embrace to dry them off before she burned herself.

"Sorry," he said, running a hand through his mussed dark hair, a sheepish smile on his face.

Sarah met his eye and returned the grin. "What did I say about you sneaking up on me like that?"

Derrick made of face of mock-innocence. "I don't remember you telling me not to sneak up on you."

"Oh, really?" she said, dropping the towel and slinking toward him, her arms going around his neck. It was true, Derrick had a knack for surprising her, she often told him that he walked like a cat and pounced without warning.

"Really," he said, burying his face in her hair and kissing her ear. "What are you doing up so early?"

Sarah's breath hitched as he caught her earlobe between his teeth. She tried her best to keep her head as he began kissing the sensitive skin beneath her ear. "Writer's block, couldn't sleep…" She let out a soft moan as he continued kissing her and tilted her head back to give him better access to her throat.

"Writer's block? I think you need some inspiration," he whispered and lifted her up onto the counter.

Sarah laughed softly and ran her fingers through that dark hair, loving the feel of it against her skin. Derrick was different from any other boyfriend she had ever had, his thick dark hair was one big change. By the time she was through with high school, Sarah had only ever been with blonds, and throughout her first few years of college, more blonds. The realization that she had such a specific type irked her in more ways than wanting a change. It was the realization that they had all looked so much like—

"Sarah?" Derrick whispered against her skin, breaking up her thoughts. "You okay there?"

Sarah sighed and jumped down from the counter, giving Derrick a quick kiss. "I'm just distracted, we have my dad and Karen's anniversary party tomorrow."

"I know," Derrick said.

Sarah knew that he disliked going to such events as much as she did. Family always tried to tie her down, make her come home. Apart from those pressures there were the parties themselves. Sarah went to see her father, Robert, Karen, and Toby, but could never seem to get drunk enough to avoid the rest of their family's long-winded stories and useless advice.

"We're going to have to get going in a few hours to get to New York by tonight," Sarah said. She wanted to spend time with her family and Derrick alone before the herd of various family members and friends arrived.

"Yes, that's right," Derrick said with a sigh, going to pour himself some coffee.

"But," Sarah said slyly, her arms twining around his waist from behind, "That doesn't mean we can't afford being a little distracted until then…"

* * *

Sarah and Derrick drove to New York in less than two hours, pulling into the small town that Sarah had grown up in while the late afternoon sun still gleamed round and full in the sky. She dusted off her travel-worn t-shirt and jeans before ringing the doorbell.

"Sarah!" Karen said as she opened the door, throwing her arms around her stepdaughter.

"Karen," Sarah replied with a laugh, smiling and returning the hug.

"Derrick!"

Sarah laughed at the look of surprise on his face as Karen enveloped her fiancé into a tight hug.

"Sarah, you're early," Robert Williams said, emerging from the kitchen and moving to embrace his daughter.

"Good to see you dad," Sarah said. Her father moved on to Derrick, his eyes already gleaming with unspoken conversations about Derrick's business ventures.

"Toby!" Sarah screeched as her little brother walked in. His eyes lit up at the sight of her and he ran for his hug. Sarah met him half way and picked him up, spinning him around.

Ever since winning Toby back from _him, _Sarah had never been anything but grateful for her brother. They were as close as close could be, she called him every night and still camped out with him in the backyard, roasting marshmallows, or played with him and his action figures each time she was home.

"I missed you so much," she said, enunciating each word and giving him an extra tight squeeze. "You are getting so big."

"Come on Sarah, you haven't seen my Christmas presents yet!" Toby said excitedly.

His remark made Sarah start. It was almost May. Had it really been so long since she had seen her family?

She pushed the thought from her mind and followed Toby to his room upstairs. Sarah smiled as the ten-year old babbled about his new toys and roller blades, feeling for the first time in a long while that she was home.

* * *

Exhausted from a day of driving and early rising, Sarah retreated to her bedroom after her parents had taken she, Derrick, and Toby out for dinner at a local Italian restaurant. The owner had recognized her, even after so many years away. It was comforting to have a home in this small town after being gone for so long, as if it were a puzzle that she always fit back into. She smiled at her childhood sanctuary, exactly as she remembered it. Most parents would have converted their grown daughter's bedroom to an in home office or exercise room, but not Karen and Robert. Sarah was rarely home, so they left it exactly as it was, as if it were a shrine for her.

She opened the window to let in a cool, spring breeze and sat down on the plush princess bed. Everything was the same from the curtains to the papered walls. Many of her toys had been lost to yard sales and donations overtime, but the most important ones remained in their little shelves on the walls. With a heavy sigh, Sarah fell back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. This room always made her wistful, but why? She had a wonderful life; she loved her job, her fiancé, and was getting married in June, in just one month's time. Despite all that, she still found herself missing the days that she could talk to her friends through the mirror when she needed them, the way that she had truly believed in magic. Heck, she would even take the all too rare, confusing sight of the white owl that she believed to be the Goblin King outside her window.

"Knock, knock," Derrick said, opening her bedroom door. He was already wearing an old college t-shirt and the pajama bottoms that Sarah had bought him last Christmas, ready for bed.

"Hey you," Sarah said with a smile. She sat up as he leaned down to kiss her goodnight.

"You sure I can't stay?" he asked in an all too tempting whisper.

Sarah shook her head, "No, Derrick. You know how Karen and my dad are. Besides, its their house."

He sighed. "I guess we're just going to have to suffer…"

She grinned and laughed at the exaggerated expression of disappointment on his face.

"Love you," Sarah said and kissed him once more.

"Night," he replied with a wink and left, shutting the door behind him.

Sarah relaxed against the pillows. Where had she been lucky enough to find a guy like him? She had never guessed that they would have hit it off when she met him her freshman year and barely spoke to him in passing. By sophomore year, they had become good friends, by junior year they went out for the first time, and by the end of senior year they were in love and inseparable. Sarah smiled to herself at the memories.

She stood and stretched before gathering her pajamas and heading to the small bathroom at the end of the hall. A long shower could help relieve some of the tension resulting from her lack of ideas. Sarah gasped as she stepped under the hot spray and closed her eyes, massaging her scalp with shampoo. She had never had a problem coming up with ideas for her novels and had already published four books. They were not bestsellers, but they did sell well, and Sarah missed the satisfaction that writing brought. _Maybe if I wrote something a little less realistic_, Sarah thought, then immediately chided herself. _Easy girl, you gave up fantasy years ago. _

Sarah changed into her t-shirt and shorts before curling up in bed with a book for inspiration. When it was late and she was feeling hopeful, she pulled her notebook from her bag and settled back on the pillows. It helped with her writing to map out stories in the leather-bound little book. She preferred the smooth glide of pencil over paper to the dim glow of a computer screen. Sarah poised her pencil, ready to decide on an era, a subject, a character, anything. But nothing came. Worse still, she happened to glance at the clock by her bedside. It was three o'clock in the morning.

"Ugh!" Sarah growled in frustration and threw the notebook before curling on her side and glaring at the opposite wall as if it were the cause of all her problems. She made another irritated noise and whispered, "Can this get any worse?"

Fate decided to answer her question. A blur of white and red came hurtling through her open window, hitting the wall with a sickening thud and falling to the floor, decidedly larger than before. Some of her old plush toys toppled from their shelves in response, but nothing made enough noise to wake anyone. Sarah almost screamed, but bit it back when she realized what had happened. The blur had grown in size when it hit the floor, changing before her very eyes from a white, bloodstained owl to a pale, bloodstained man. He was dressed entirely in black, a billowy black shirt tucked into tight, black pants, with high-heeled boots in the same shade, a curiously shaped pendant resting against the exposed skin of his white chest.

Sarah slowly crawled out of bed. Each movement felt slow and uncontrollable as she approached the figure on her floor, as if she were watching herself from the outside. His stardust hair was a matted mess, flaking with dry blood. His chest heaved with each breath and Sarah could see the stab wound that marred his flesh soaking the gauzy fabric of his shirt even darker. She knelt beside him and tentatively reached a hand out, as if to touch him and see if he was real.

His hand shot out, quick, grabbing her wrist in a tight, vice-like grip. Sarah choked on her scream and trembled as his eyes opened and met hers. The pupils were different sizes, the irises icy blue and utterly mesmerizing.

She drew in a deep, shaky breath. "Goblin King?" she whispered.

His eyes were becoming unfocused, he tried to pull her closer, but his grip was becoming loose. The defeated man on her floor was only able to choke out two words, "Help me."

Then he was silent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Labyrinth does not belong to me. I have a strong suspicion that it never will. It belongs to Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

**Author's Note: **I know I left you hanging with the cliffhanger but I couldn't resist. Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, they are greatly appreciated. I'm so glad that the story is enjoyable so far! Here's Chapter 2.

Chapter 2

"Reacquainted"

"Oh my God, oh my God," Sarah mumbled.

It had taken a moment to regain her sanity as she stood and stared open-mouthed at the beautiful, broken creature on her floor. Her mind ricocheted in panic as she tried to think of something, anything, to do. After a moment, Sarah realized that there was just one option.

The moment she had emerged from her stupor, she had lifted up the Goblin King, careful not to touch his bloody side, and draped his arms over her shoulders. He was heavier than she had expected and dragging him to the bathroom was proving to be a challenging task. As she finally got him down the hall and into the small room, Sarah was sure to check the carpet for bloodstains. Thankfully there were none.

_Now what? _Sarah asked herself, _I could wake up my parents, I could wake up Derrick. _But those thoughts felt traitorous. Out of everyone in this house, she was the only one who knew anything about the Goblin King and his eyes had held so much when he asked her for help.

Standing inside the sanctuary of the bathroom, Sarah was sure that her heartbeat alone would wake up the rest of the house. _I'm not a doctor, I don't know what I'm doing_, she thought to herself in a panic and bit down on her lip.

Thinking quickly, Sarah deposited him in the bathtub, leaning against the wall, opposite the shower head. At least now he was in a sitting position, however slumped against the tiled wall. This way she could rinse any blood down the drain. Now, to clean his injuries. Sarah approached him carefully, sitting on the edge of the tub and leaning in, moving as cautiously as if he were a wounded wild animal. She pulled off his gloves first and set them on the counter, surprising herself with how intimate the act seemed. His bare hands were long fingered and pale. Sarah only studied them for a moment before she reached out and un-tucked his shirt with shaking hands, undoing the buttons as she went. She stifled a laugh, _What if he wakes up and thinks I'm a pervert_? As if on cue, the Goblin King stirred slightly, making a small noise of protest and pain. Sarah let out a small hiss as she finally removed it, pulling the soft fabric from where it had stuck to his torso and leaving the bloody shirt in the tub for easy cleanup. His flawless skin was blemished by fresh, ugly bruises, a nasty one, still brilliantly red, kissed the flesh of his abdomen. Small cuts, flesh wounds from what Sarah feared were terrible claws, marked his face and body. The worst of the injuries was a long, deep slash marring perfect marble skin. It did not escape her attention that his body was beautiful, lean and lithe. She banished the thoughts from her head. Sarah studied the pendant that rested on his breast bone, perhaps she should remove that too. The moment her hand touched it, a strange, but pleasantly aching, ripple passed through her fingers and she drew back with a jolt. _I guess the pendant stays, _she thought.

"Goblin King?" she whispered. He didn't move, for a moment Sarah's breath caught. She glanced down at his bare chest which rose and fell slowly. He was still breathing, he was still alive. She leaned in closer, trembling. "Jareth," she added tentatively in his ear.

He shifted at the flutter of her breath on his skin, an agonizing hiss of pain escaping him.

"Shhh," she soothed, an automatic reaction, and prayed that he would be quiet, but glad he was awake.

Sarah stood and rummaged through the medical cabinet, grabbing some gauze and a container of alcohol along with a small towel which she soaked in warm water from the sink. She set her supplies on the edge of the bathtub and knelt so that only the short side of the tub separated her from the Goblin King.

"This is going to hurt, try to be as quiet as possible," she whispered in his ear, noting his shudder as her lower lip accidentally grazed his skin.

She decided to do the small cuts first, perhaps wake him up a little. _How is this happening right now?_ Sarah thought. With a shaking hand, she pushed his hair away from his forehead. He leaned into her touch in his delirium, almost like a cat. As surreal as the moment was, Sarah could not help but smile. She touched the towel to a miniscule cut on his forehead, cleaning off any bloodstains and proceeding to the rest of the tiny nicks and scrapes on his face, arms, and chest.

He sighed while she worked, surprising her. Sarah almost stopped. _This is crazy_, she thought to herself. Everything felt like a dream. _I am not cleaning up an injured Goblin King in my bathroom_, she thought,_ this just can't be real_. After finishing all of the smallest injuries, Sarah soaked and wrung out the towel once more, sending red tinted water swirling down the sink.

Now she was running into a problem, the deep slash on Jareth's side. It was an ugly thing, clotted and sullied by dirt and what looked like bits of leaves, perhaps from when he was flying through trees in his owl form. The blood from the wound had streaked and stained his side. No matter how much she tried, Sarah could not get a good angle on it.

"Jareth," she said. "I'm going to lift you up now, okay?"

He made a small noise of agreement and struggled to help her as best he could when she grasped him under his arms and hoisted him up. He coughed with the effort and fell forward slightly, catching himself on his hands against the opposite wall, trapping Sarah between his body and the shower head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in a hoarse, hollow way.

"Don't be," she said, shaking her head, hoping that he did not hear the pity in her voice. Jareth didn't seem like someone who would take to pity well. She closed the distance between them slightly, wrapping an arm around his good side so that he could lean against her. "Here, now take a step up."

Jareth followed her out of the tub. Sarah did her best to seat him on the closed lid of the toilet. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily, it terrified her. _What did this to him_? she thought, _What could do this to someone so powerful? _The thought made her break out in goosepimples. Sarah turned to the mediocre medical supplies that now rested on the counter and winced, wishing she had better treatment.

"Okay, this is going to hurt. A lot," Sarah said. "Please, Jareth, try to be as quiet as possible."

"Of course, Sarah," he whispered.

Her heart jumped to her throat and began hammering away. The sound of her name on his lips was as terrifying and exhilarating as it had been when she was fifteen. She let out a shaky breath and touched the towel to the slash on his side. He took a sharp breath and jerked away so violently that Sarah had to lurch forward and grab him to keep him from falling sideways. Jareth's head lolled on her shoulder, his feathery hair tickling her cheek. Sarah tried to ignore the very real body pressed against her. _You got over that infatuation in a snap when you were a teenager_, she thought angrily to herself, unable to believe that those long ago feelings were threatening her now.

Gently, she pushed Jareth back into his sitting position. "Here," she said and placed his hand on her left forearm. "Squeeze if it hurts."

He nodded and swallowed, eyes still shut. Ever so slowly, Sarah reapplied the towel to the gash. Jareth sucked in a breath and squeezed her arm, tight. Sarah whimpered in pain, his fingers could crush a bone, but kept going. Whatever pain she was in was nothing compared to his. It only took a few more agonizing minutes to clean the cut out completely and apply antiseptic and gauze. Sarah drew back, shaking heavily, and admired her handiwork. She was no doctor, but he looked better than when he arrived. She had even gotten the matted blood from his pale hair.

Sarah took a few more moments to drain the tub and grab his shirt and gloves before leaning his good side on her and helping him back to her bedroom. She dumped him a bit unceremoniously on her bed, he groaned softly, but still said nothing since his last whisper in the bathroom.

She sat down heavily on the floor beside her bed and rested her back against the mattress.

"Okay, just stay calm," she told herself in a fierce whisper. "There is a half-naked Goblin King on your bed, but that's okay, it's all going to be okay. Dad won't find out, Karen won't find out, Toby won't, _Derrick _won't…"

Sarah continued to mumble to herself, suddenly aware of how exhausted she was. Her eyes were heavy with the promise of sleep. Despite her best efforts to stay awake, Sarah felt her eyes shut and her head loll to the side. She fell into a deep and uneasy sleep, dreaming about Goblin Kings and bloody wounds.

* * *

Sarah stirred, something was brushing her face. She moved her hand to swat it away and met the solid weight of warm fingers. Her eyes shot open. Jareth's arm dangled from the side of her bed, his fingertips lightly touching her cheek. She crawled away from the unwanted contact as best she could and stood up, her fingers tangling through her sleep-mussed hair. Her alarm clock read 5:30 am. Good, no one else in the family would be awake.

Sarah stood beside the Goblin King, who was breathing gently and lying on his stomach. Jareth looked much more innocent in slumber, still terribly dangerous, but the way that a sleeping lion does, powerful, adorable, and almost loveable. Shaking the strange thought from her mind, Sarah bent down, her face beside his.

"Jareth?"

Sarah repeated his name and this time gave his bare shoulder a gentle squeeze. He moved slightly and made a contented sound in the back of his throat at the contact. She pulled back, his skin was warm and very much alive, almost too real for her to believe. She could see him frown slightly as her hand left his shoulder and he rolled over onto his back. Sarah was shocked anew by the sight of his face lit by the earliest suggestions of sunrise in her bedroom at 5:30 in the morning. Last night felt like a dream, a warped and unsettling dream, this reminder of reality was somewhat jarring.

"I'm going to get you something to eat," she said, slightly louder. "Come on, please wake up Jareth."

Unable to help herself, Sarah pushed his mussed hair back from his face, the way she always did with Toby when he was sick, and left the room quietly. The house was quiet, peaceful. There was no one up but her. Sarah moved as if dreaming, finding her way to the kitchen and making some coffee for both she and Jareth. She took two apples from the crisper and some sticky pre-packaged cinnamon rolls from where Karen prepared Toby's school lunches. She tiptoed quietly back up the stairs with the small breakfast on one of Karen's floral tea trays. Sarah opened the door and jumped, sloshing the coffee on the tray.

Jareth sat in her windowsill, still shirtless, but with her blue blanket slung around his shoulders carelessly, one knee up and the other long leg stretched out before him.

He smirked at her reaction to his wakefulness and drawled, "Good morning to you too."

Sarah couldn't help it, she glared at him fiercely and opened her mouth, but no words came out. She sank to the ground, setting the tray on the floor beside her, buried her face in her hands and moaned.

"This can't be happening," she whispered. It was too much seeing him there, his eyes alive and mocking her with their icy fire. He looked like a fallen angel in the gentle lavender morning light, wrapped in blue, with peeks of his pale, toned skin showing. _Stupid hormones, stupid Goblin Kings_, Sarah thought angrily, her fingers digging into her dark hair.

"I assure you, precious, this is all very real," he said, gazing out the window.

Sarah detected a sure bite in his voice and narrowed her eyes at him, but suppressed her anger. "First things first, now that you're awake you need to eat. You've lost a lot of blood. You do eat, don't you?"

He looked a bit taken aback by her reaction and ignored her question. "My, my, Sarah, I was expecting a far less caring response. How very sweet."

"I can assure you I am _not _being sweet," Sarah said as she pushed herself off the ground, tray in hand, and made her way over to him, "But, there's no reason to yell at you when you're at risk of passing out. But don't worry. I'll certainly get around to it later."

Jareth took an apple and bit into it wordlessly, his eyes dancing with silent laughter. Sarah shivered a bit at the sight of his pointed teeth tearing the delicate flesh of the fruit. She reached for her half spilled coffee and drained it in just a few short gulps. Jareth stared at his own cup and sniffed the contents before sipping it. He grimaced.

"What is this?" he said, peering into the cup in disgust.

Sarah couldn't help it, she laughed. "It's black coffee."

"Well, it is repulsive," he said, wrinkling his nose.

She laughed again, unable to help it and feeling rather hysterical from shock and lack of sleep. How long had it been since she convinced herself that it had all been just a dream? Now look at her, the author of historical fiction, fiancé to a business consultant, eating breakfast with the Goblin King who, at that moment, was turning the still wrapped cinnamon roll over in his hands and studying it as though the pastry were very difficult crossword puzzle.

"Here," Sarah said and took a cellophane packaged cinnamon roll from Jareth's hands. She unwrapped it and handed it back as he stared on, inquisitive. "Dunk it in the coffee, it's good."

"Whatever you say, precious," he answered and tore a chunk off, following her words. Sarah smiled at the delicate way he chewed it. "It is far more tolerable this way."

As Jareth finished up his roll, Sarah sat down heavily on her bed, studying him. He was beautiful when broken, she could not help but notice the way that he favored his good side, winced at the bruises on his back, and avoided touching the small cuts on his face.

When she saw for sure that he was done eating, Sarah cleared her throat. "So, Goblin King," she began.

"Jareth," he corrected. "Not even my own subjects address me as _Goblin King_. You, the Champion of my Labyrinth, most certainly don't have to."

"Fine then, _Jareth_," Sarah continued. "What happened? How did you end up here?"

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and for a moment Sarah thought he might faint. It was surreal, sitting cross-legged on her fluffy, princess bed, with the object of her teenage sexual frustration lounging in the window.

"I don't know how to start," he said so quietly, she almost didn't hear him.

"Try?" Sarah suggested in a gentle whisper, but Jareth seemed lost to her. He stared out the window, watching the Aboveground awaken before him.

His expression was painful to behold as sunrise washed over him, as if he had lost everything and there was no possible way to get it back. Sarah slid off her bed and walked over to him, her own breakfast lay forgotten on the tray. An indescribable urge, a mix of the sympathetic, the maternal, and a third feeling that she dare not name, rose within her and propelled her forward. It must have shown on her face for his eyes widened at her approach. She stopped in front of him and stared down at his angelic features.

"Sarah," Jareth whispered her name with such emotion that she felt the sting of tears threaten to overwhelm her. No one had ever said her name like that before. _What are you doing to me?_ she thought and tilted her head to study the insufferable creature that sat before her.

For a moment, it was as if she was watching the scene from far away. Sarah reached out a tentative hand and touched his cheek, laying her palm flat against the sharp angles of his face, savoring his velvet skin and brushing her thumb in a soothing motion over his cheekbone. Jareth leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, an expression of undeniable longing on his face. Sarah breathed sharply in shock and drew her hand back. _It's not possible, _she thought.

Before Jareth could react, there was a knock on her door.

"Baby, are you up?"

"Oh, shit, it's Derrick. Hide!" Sarah said in a sharp urgent whisper and grabbed his hand. Jareth followed her as best he could with his injuries. She stopped in front of her closet, opened the door, and half pushed him inside.

"_Derrick_?" Jareth asked sourly with an unmistakable hint of jealousy in his voice. Sarah gave him one last pleading look and shut the closet just as her bedroom door opened.

Sarah whipped around. Her fiancé stood before her, still in his pajamas, his dark hair rumpled from sleep.

"Morning," he said and walked over to her, sliding his arms around her waist.

"Morning," Sarah replied and kissed the tip of his nose, hoping that he couldn't detect the fine note of panic in her voice. "Derrick, what are you doing in here?"

"I just wanted to say good morning," he said and kissed her. Derrick walked her backwards to her bed and sat, pulling Sarah along so that she straddled his waist. "I must admit that I did have a bit of a more selfish intention…" he whispered, kissing her neck audibly.

An angry snort came from the general direction of her closet. Sarah tried to cover it with a cough. Derrick still heard and turned his face away from her neck, frowning. _Oh shit,_ Sarah thought. She wound her fingers in Derrick's hair and kissed him, pushing him down onto his back.

Her distraction worked, Derrick moaned as her tongue invaded his mouth. Unfortunately, that warranted the sound of a box falling and crashing.

"What the…?" Derrick said sluggishly.

"Toby," Sarah said, thinking quickly. "He's up."

Derrick's eyebrows narrowed. "Are you sure? That sounded like it came from your—,"

Sarah kissed him again and said huskily, "Can we continue this later? I think my parents are awake."

Derrick grinned and rolled her off of him, "Definitely."

After one final kiss, Derrick was gone. As the door clicked shut behind him, Sarah sighed in relief. Now to attend to the very crotchety Goblin King in her closet.

He had pulled a box of old toys down on his head in frustration and now sat on the floor looking haughty, annoyed, and vaguely stunned. The plastic foot of a My Little Pony tangled in his wild hair. Sarah laughed, she couldn't help it.

"Never again, precious," Jareth said, brushing himself off and flicking the poor pony aside. He stood up as best he could and strode out of the tiny closet with more dignity than Sarah thought possible, casually tossing the dusty blanket from around his shoulders to the floor.

"Sarah, is that you dear?" Karen's voice called out. Sarah groaned as she saw her doorknob jiggle.

"Back inside," Sarah said, blocking Jareth from walking any further, her hands pressed to the bare skin of his chest. She pushed him backward and into the closet. To her utter shock and secret delight, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her in behind him as she shut the door.

It was utter blackness and Sarah could feel the arm of a long forgotten Barbie doll poking into the arch of her foot. The plastic digging into her skin barely even registered as Sarah realized her position. Her closet was only about a square foot of space, leaving nothing, not even an inch of air, between her body and Jareth's. She couldn't see anything, but she could feel everything. The hard muscle of his chest and arms over the sharp bones of his lean frame, the warmth of him, the soft fabric of the little clothing he wore, and the sharpness of his pendant through her shirt were all she could sense in the darkness. The scent of him was in her nose, something made purely of magic, sweet and heady. Sarah breathed it in deeply, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach that occurred each time his bare skin brushed against hers. Despite Karen just outside the door, Sarah felt herself naturally angle toward Jareth, practically resting against him. She almost missed the soft noise of satisfaction he made in the back of his throat. The small part of her brain that was still ruled by her teenage self danced with joy at the sound of it.

"Sarah?" Karen asked again. After what felt like an eternity, the sound of her footsteps and the door clicking shut made it clear that Karen was gone.

Sarah still did not move, she was enjoying this new position all too much.

"Sarah?" Jareth's whisper was warm and right in her ear. Sarah jumped at the feeling of his lips on her skin, her heart hammering away. "I think she's gone now."

Reluctantly, Sarah opened the door and saw that her room was vacant and quiet once more. She sat down heavily on the bed, shaking a bit, feeling immense guilt sweep through her. _Oh my God,_ she thought, _how could I have enjoyed that? What about Derrick? _She sighed and dropped her head into her hands, massaging her scalp and trying to understand what had just transpired.

"Sarah?" Jareth said tentatively, now leaning casually in the door frame. Though he looked as if he had been ready to laugh at her and tease her for her closeness, there was genuine concern on his face as he eyed Sarah, shaking on the bed.

"Listen, Jareth. It's my dad and stepmother's anniversary party tonight; my entire family and then some will be around today. I need to know what's happening, and I need to know it soon," she said.

He nodded and crossed over, back to his former perch on her windowsill. Although he hunched over brokenly with his slashed side, Sarah had to stifle another stomach flipping sigh at the sight of him.

"As I said, I don't know quite where to begin," he drawled, propping an arm on one bent knee, the other leg stretching for a mile before him. "I suppose that, to put it simply, I was in a bit of a fight. I was almost totally drained by my opponent. I used up my last bit of magical energy to fling myself away from my adversary and into your realm."

Sarah's eyes widened, "So, are you saying that—,"

"I cannot use magic," Jareth answered, his expression unreadable, "at least, not very much for the time being. I certainly couldn't last night. Very soon I shall have rested up and regained my energy. It won't be long now, I can already feel it returning."

As if to prove his words, Jareth conjured a minute crystal, barely the size of a large marble. He twirled it between his fingers for a few moments before breathing on it. A stunning orange and black butterfly materialized. He opened Sarah's window and let it out.

"So last night, you couldn't…use magic?" Sarah asked faintly, feeling both silly and strange as she said the words. It had been years since she even entertained the idea that magic may be real, now she was speaking about it in polite conversation with perhaps the most magical being in existence.

"No, I could not," he answered.

Sarah frowned and thought for a moment. "You said that you just flung yourself Aboveground. How did you end up at my house?"

Jareth opened his mouth to speak when the sound of the doorbell permeated the air. The joyful cries of names and greetings came soon after.

"My family's arriving," Sarah said softly. She stood and walked to where he sat at the window. "Are you going to be able to hide up here until the party is over? I'll be up when I can to help with the bandages."

Jareth met her eyes and she was startled by the intensity of their uneven pupils. His mouth turned up into a sardonic smile, "For you, precious? Anything."

Sarah rolled her eyes at his sarcastic tone but smiled nonetheless. "Now get in bed, you need some rest."

He quirked an eyebrow and stood. Though he winced for a moment at the pain, he walked over and lay on her bed with a visible shudder as his injuries brushed the fabric of her comforter.

"Are you going to be all right?" Sarah asked. It was unsettling to see someone so sure of himself, so untouchable, in pain like that.

She still stood a safe distance away, not trusting herself to resist the urge to crawl in bed with him and try to sleep some more after the night of confusion and sleeplessness. But that thought was ridiculous, guilt inducing, and all too tempting to be a good idea.

Jareth met her eyes and gave a small nod. "Yes, go enjoy your party Sarah."

Sarah nodded and went to her closet to retrieve the pale green sundress and high-heeled sandals that she had bought for the anniversary. After one lingering glance at Jareth, Sarah left to rejoin reality.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Labyrinth is not mine. It belongs to the people it belongs to. Namely, Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

**Author's Note: **This chapter was getting much too long and needed to be split up. The next half of it will be coming soon! Once again, thank you so much for any reviews, favorites, or follows. I appreciate them all very much. Here's Chapter 3, please read and review!

Chapter 3

"An Occasion"

Sarah snuck down the hall as quietly as she could and into the bathroom. Everything felt surreal as she slipped into her small green dress. While she was changing, she caught her reflection in the mirror.

"Yikes," Sarah whispered. Her green eyes were wide, haunted, with dark circles beneath them. There was something else there too. The girl in Sarah's mirror certainly had her face, but Sarah was sure she had none of her reflection's aura of awareness. The mirror girl had seen things, of this Sarah was sure. She looked vigilant, on edge, and ready for anything. This was certainly not the Sarah Williams of twenty-four hours ago. Sarah touched her cheek. "I've got to get more sleep…"

Sarah went through the motions of brushing and styling her hair, applying makeup, and strapping on her shoes. Somehow, the everyday routine made the morning feel a bit less surreal. At least now her reflection looked awake and commonplace, just a pretty girl in a green dress. The fragile illusion of normality shattered when Sarah crept back down the hall and slipped back into her room. Jareth was still in her bed, sleeping on his good side. Loose strands of long hair had fallen into his face and fluttered with each breath. He looked almost innocent for someone so absurdly otherworldly. Strange, she almost liked him better when he was sleeping.

After rummaging around her dresser top for a few moments, Sarah found what she was looking for buried in her jewelry box. "Thank God," Sarah whispered and eyed the tiny key painted a garish hot pink in her hand.

When Sarah had returned from the Labyrinth it did not escape the notice of Karen and Robert that she had undergone what they liked to refer to as a 'major attitude adjustment'. Her whining had stopped almost all together, she would actually volunteer to babysit Toby, and she stopped sulking so much when things did not go her way. As a special reward, her father and stepmother gave her what she had wanted for her entire fifteenth year, a lock on her door. Now holding the small key that her sixteen year old self had spent a good hour of time slavishly decorating in the questionable color choice of hot pink nail polish, Sarah had a way to keep her family from finding Jareth.

He got one last glance from her as she shut the door and locked it tightly, slipping the key into her purse, surprised by how she was already worried about the magical king sleeping in her bedroom. Sarah walked downstairs and was enveloped by a pair of thin arms.

"Sarah!" her Aunt Lorraine said happily, giving her an extra tight squeeze. Lorraine's two small boys, twin troublemakers both on roller blades, skated over with Toby close behind.

"Hi Sarah," they all said happily, chiming over one another in the babble of voices she associated with her family.

"Not in the house, guys!" Loraine called behind them. The boys skated away quickly, avoiding their mother's wrath. Loraine shook her head, "Boys will be boys."

Sarah smiled half heartedly and allowed her aunt to lead her to the dining room, making small talk about ideas for her next book and Derrick's business ventures. Could Lorraine see the distraction in her eyes as she spoke? _Who knew pretending everything was normal would feel this weird, _Sarah thought. The dissonant voices grew louder as they approached the dining room. At least fifteen family members, cousins, aunts, uncles, sat around the table, extended for the occasion. They would eat a big breakfast at the house and meet up in the park near sundown for the party, joined by the family and their closest friends.

"Morning," Derrick greeted her in the doorway, giving her a small hug and kissing her hair.

Sarah allowed him to lead her to the breakfast table in a daze. She was served an extra large pile of food that she was not really hungry for. As she listened to the chatter about mundane life experiences, Sarah felt herself slipping away. Derrick was talking about his work with Miller and Brothers, a paper company. "Their problem lay entirely in organization…" he said. She had heard it all before. It was disturbingly dull. Sarah could not concentrate on the everyday problems of Miller and his unorganized staff when there were so many questions she had to ask Jareth, he had told her so little about what had happened to him.

She was only called back to reality once after being scolded for looking too thin and made to eat an extra pancake by her Great Aunt Alice. Sarah sighed and poked around at the sausage and eggs that still littered her plate to make room for the extra helping.

"Something the matter honey?" the elderly woman asked her, patting her hand. "You just haven't been yourself today."

"I'm fine," Sarah said, but her voice was far away and introspective. Maybe if she could get away from the breakfast for a few minutes she could clear her head, after all she had sat at the table for an hour already. "In fact, if you'll excuse me, I'll be right back."

The din of loud children, booming laughter from her uncles, and Great Aunt Alice nodding off in her chair allowed Sarah to slip upstairs unnoticed. It was ten o'clock in the morning; Jareth would probably need his bandages changed. Sarah made a quick stop to the medicine cabinet for gauze. She was walking down the hall when—

"What are you doing?"

Sarah jumped and dropped her armload of supplies, scattering gauze everywhere. Derrick was standing at the end of the hall, looking quizzical in the half-light. He reached down and picked up the tube of antiseptic.

"Derrick! You scared me," she said, scolding him. Sarah's breath caught in her throat when he glanced at her. She could tell that he knew something was up.

He walked toward her, feet padding silently, exactly like a cat. No wonder she hadn't heard him. "What are you doing, Sarah?" he repeated.

Sarah hesitated before meeting his eyes. He didn't look mad, just confused with a hint of suspicion. She sucked in a shaky breath, uncertain what to say. It wasn't as if she had ever thought of excuses for this kind of situation.

"I cut myself," she said quickly.

Derrick cocked his head as he looked her up and down, "Where? Sarah, are you okay? You were acting weird this morning and now…"

Sarah leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "It's nothing," she said, her stomach twisting in shame. When was the last time she had hidden something from him? _Oh shut up, _she thought to her guilty conscience. It wasn't her secret to tell.

"Are you sure? You can tell me anything you know," he replied.

"I know," Sarah said quickly.

"I understand you're under a lot of stress. I mean, I know how you hate these family things. Next thing you know, they'll be trying to get you to move back in again—,"

"That only happened once," Sarah said, feeling defensive, "and it was because they hadn't seen me in months. They didn't want me back forever, just for the summer."

Derrick frowned. He had taken the offer her parents made right after graduation pretty badly, particularly when they were just moving in together, like it was an insult to his manhood or something. At the time it had annoyed her, overtime she had tried to understand as best she could.

"Look, everything's fine. I…" Sarah trailed. "I cut my thigh shaving this morning and I need that to cover it," she said, thinking quickly and taking back the much-needed antiseptic.

He opened his mouth to speak again and Sarah quickly covered it in a lingering kiss.

"Just give me a second, I'll be back downstairs before you know it," she said, smiling as best she could. Had smiling convincingly ever been this difficult? She could not think of one instance when it had felt so unnatural.

"Okay, baby, whatever you say," he said with a sigh. He turned and walked downstairs.

When Sarah was sure he had gone, she scrambled to retrieve the fallen medical supplies and unlocked her door, shutting it quickly behind her and bolting it.

"Well, hello there," Jareth said from the bed, not looking up from the book he was reading when she burst inside.

Sarah jumped. She was still on edge from the encounter in the hallway. "God, what is this, 'Give Sarah a Heart Attack Day'?" she snapped and rubbed her temples.

Jareth raised his eyebrows, "Your flushed, Sarah. What happened? Been off ravishing that poor foolish boy who showed up at the crack of dawn? Forgive me, but I do believe he's incapable of handling you."

Sarah gave him the evil eye. "Ha ha," she said, deadpan.

He was sitting on her bed, well more like sprawling, and had redressed in his shirt and gloves from the previous night. The shirt was untucked and loose on his frame, several buttons undone. He seemed both casual and enticing, surrounded by books from her shelves. Most were fantasy; there were novels such as _The Hobbit _and picture books like _Where the Wild Things Are_, pleasant memories of her childhood. Sarah had a pretty good idea of how he'd spent his morning.

Sarah caught sight of the book in his hands and laughed self-consciously. "Been reading?"

Jareth gave her a knowing smile, as if he could sense her embarrassment. "_The Venture _by Sarah Williams," he said slowly, looking over the cover of her second novel pointedly, as if he knew how she would react and enjoyed seeing her squirm.

"You read my book," she said and sat at his feet. It was better than her first. This one was set in the nineteen twenties, a whirl of experimentation, jazz, liberation, and class warfare. Sarah stared at the magical being before her and wondered what he thought of such human problems. Were they trivial to him or tragic?

"Yes," he said nodding. Sarah braced herself for something biting, perhaps being struck down in mortification. When he spoke, he surprised her. "It's quite good," he mused and turned the book over in his hands.

"Jareth, do you really mean that?" she asked, taken aback by his comment and waiting for the sarcasm.

"Would I lie?"

He looked very serious, as if daring her to contradict him. Sarah opened her mouth to do just that and closed it, surprising herself. With a start she realized that he had never told her a single falsehood.

"No," she said slowly. "I guess you wouldn't."

"Then you must believe me, Sarah, when I tell you it's quite good," he said. "I am utterly engrossed in it."

Sarah noticed how the fantasy novels had mostly been set aside. Jareth was favoring more realistic fiction, all of which took place in her world, Aboveground. He had dog-eared several pages in _Wuthering Heights_. The realization was shockingly charming. Perhaps fairytale creatures dreamed of her world the way she had once dreamed of theirs.

"Oh, I brought you fresh bandages," Sarah said and cursed herself for not remembering earlier.

She set about opening packages of gauze and wetting a clean towel with alcohol.

"Sarah?" Jareth said, watching her. His voice was much softer than before and Sarah was all too aware of how it made her heart speed up.

"Yeah?" she quipped, trying to sound casual. _Oh yeah, I always tend to injured magical creatures in my room, _Sarah thought, cringing at her breezy tone.

Jareth swung his legs off the bed so that he sat beside her. He was terribly close, too close, but Sarah found that she didn't care. Jareth pushed a strand of hair off her shoulder, his gloved fingertips grazing her skin. She suddenly felt naked in the short, sleeveless dress. Sarah didn't care much about that either.

"I never did say thank you for saving my life," he said quietly. His voice was low and grave, the kind of voice one uses in church. "So…thank you."

He didn't tease her, didn't touch her again. _Boy did I read that one wrong_, Sarah thought to herself, almost embarrassed. Jareth had merely been thanking her, reverently and honestly. She had misinterpreted it as flirting because of the sensuality he exuded and because, she had to admit, that she half wanted it to be true. Emotions twisted within her, strangling her poor, stressed out conscience even more. She pictured her rational inner voice having a crisis, Jiminy Cricket cracking up under pressure.

Sarah cleared her throat and Jareth sat up a little straighter, kept his distance just an inch or two more. "Right, so bandages," she prompted.

"Oh, yes, bandages," Jareth said, not meeting her eyes.

"Could you take off your—?" she prompted, gesturing to his shirt.

Jareth raised his eyebrows, "Sarah Williams, you wicked thing."

Sarah frowned and smacked his arm lightly. "Shut up."

He was practically preening as he shrugged out of the thin fabric, teasing her, reveling in the way her eyes followed the lithe line of his body with the attitude of a man who knew just how good looking he was. He had not lied that morning; he was healing fast, bruises already fading into yellow and purple stains on pale skin. It was clear that creatures like him, whatever he was, healed quicker than humans.

Jareth stretched back on her bed, propping himself up on his hands. Oh yes, he unquestionably knew that he was affecting her terribly with his slow, catlike stretch.

_Two can play at that game, Goblin King, _Sarah thought, _you don't scare me. _She met his gaze with hooded eyes and licked her lips before smoothing a hand up his side to the bandage, a slow touch of his soft skin. Her other hand rested on his thigh for a moment before she moved it to his stomach so that they framed the injury. Jareth swallowed with a bob of his throat and when Sarah met his eyes, her hands resting lightly on either side of the gash, she was shocked by the unbridled desire there and the quickened cadence of his breathing. This was too confusing. _Get a hold of yourself, Sarah, _she thought, _what are you trying to do_?

She dropped the seductive act in a flash and changed the bandages quickly. The cut had clotted nicely, looking clean and healthy. That was a relief. Sarah went through the motions of cleaning and bandaging, hardly even looking at him and feeling unbearably awkward. Inwardly she cursed herself for her behavior and mixed signals. _The sooner I get this done, the sooner my life goes back to normal, _Sarah reassured herself, although she knew it was a lie. She would never be normal and was not quite sure that she wanted it anymore. She knew that if he had that longing look on his face again that she couldn't trust herself not to do something stupid. Something incredibly, temptingly stupid.

"Okay," Sarah said, "I'm done."

"Hmm?"

She had been so focused on not meeting his eyes that Sarah had barely glanced at him while she was changing the bandage. Jareth's eyes were closed, as if he were concentrating deeply and enjoying himself. It wasn't a lustful expression, it was the face someone made when eating a particularly delicious piece of chocolate.

"I'm done, Jareth," she said again.

The sound of his name brought him out of his reverie. "Thank you."

"Jareth, do you need to go back to sleep? I mean, if you don't have the energy to antagonize me…"

He laughed and settled back on the pillows, eyes closed. "Yes, I think I will."

Sarah frowned. Jareth was happy about something, something that he wasn't telling her. _Just add it to the list of things you don't know, _Sarah thought.

"One more thing," Sarah said.

Jareth cracked an eye open as Sarah began rummaging through her purse until she found what she was looking for, a small nail kit, and removed the scissors.

"Fancy a manicure, love?" he asked, resting an arm over his eyes.

"Nope," Sarah said. She peeled back her dress from her left thigh and poised the scissors. "Oh the things I do for you, Goblin King."

Jareth sat up when he heard her gasp of pain and grabbed her wrist, making her drop the bloodied scissors.

"What are you doing to yourself?" he asked in horror, his grip tightening as if to keep her from doing more harm.

"Making sure nobody finds you here," she replied and stared down at her handiwork. A small, thin line bled steadily on her upper thigh, a couple of inches long, passable for a nasty shaving cut. "Derrick caught me sneaking away with your bandages and I need an alibi."

Sarah reached for the alcohol and gauze. Jareth stopped her with one long-fingered hand.

"Allow me," he said and peeled off his gloves. He was smiling with more warmth and sincerity than Sarah had ever seen on his face. It struck her with sudden intensity that he was happy.

Sarah gasped at the feeling of his hand on her skin. He was agonizingly slow, yet thorough as he cleaned her blood away. _This is payback, _she thought as his torturing fingers caressed antiseptic cream on the cut. Sarah felt her breath quicken as he gently stroked her skin. He smirked at her reaction and continued, mimicking the motions she had gone through with the slash on his side. Although his touch made wicked thoughts explode in her mind, Sarah had a feeling as she watched him that it wasn't meant to be erotic. His brow furrowed as he finished bandaging her up. When he met her eyes, she was sure. _He's trying to care for me. _

The realization was so stunning that it took Sarah a moment to catch her breath. "Thank you," she said.

"Anything for you," he said. There were those words again, spoken with as much playfulness and teasing as the first time. His sardonic mask slipped back into place as he leaned back on her pillows with his book. It was as if nothing happened.

"Jareth?" Sarah asked.

He lowered the book. "Yes, Sarah?"

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened? You didn't say much about it before," she asked. Sarah knew she was pushing it, but he was in such a good mood.

Jareth frowned and closed the book.

"I know it's none of my business," she prompted in response to his silence.

"On the contrary, my dear," he said quietly, she almost didn't catch it. He sat silently a few moments more. She wondered if he would say anything else at all. Just as she was considering speaking, Jareth sat up, "Go back to your family, Sarah. They'll be wondering where you've gone."

There was that melancholy expression again, making yet another appearance when she asked for information. _Whatever happened, it must have been terrible,_ Sarah thought. "Okay," she whispered.

He said nothing, just thumbed through her book to find his place.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, eat the other apple and cinnamon roll if you get hungry. Later I'll smuggle you up some food," Sarah said as casually as she could manage. She felt his eyes on her back as she stood and walked to the door.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in a hazy blur. Family was in and out of the house all day long. Sarah's older relatives took refuge in the hotel up the street to escape the midday heat, while her younger cousins stuck around to play with Toby. As Karen, Robert, and Toby's friends trickled in, Sarah mostly lounged in a lawn chair. She spent the afternoon drinking Karen's lemonade and listening to Derrick tell Robert's best friend from college, a paunchy man named Frank who looked like a football player gone to seed, all about his Miller and Brothers paper woes.

Sarah stifled another yawn as Derrick moved onto production and distribution problems with a small South American firm. The sun was setting, illuminating the backyard with red fairy light. Soon it would be time to go to the park for the party. Sarah stretched in her chair, her mind elsewhere. She had been unable to sneak away to Jareth since the morning. Sarah traced her bandaged thigh from where her stretch made the dress hike up and shivered pleasantly. Her mind had conjured up a thousand possible explanations for what had happened to Jareth, each more ridiculous than the last. If Derrick didn't care enough to include her in his conversations, she felt entitled to a little mental escape in speculation.

"Sarah, are you ready to go?" Robert said, startling her.

He and Karen stood side by side, dressed for the evening, her father in a casual suit and Karen in a tasteful dark blue cocktail dress. Sarah glanced down at her green sundress, wrinkled from a day in the heat. She hadn't brought another, it would have to do.

"Yes, I guess I am," she said and stood. She looked over her father and stepmother with a smile. "You both look wonderful."

"Thank you sweetie," her father said. Karen gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Frank, Derrick? Are you both ready to go?"

The park behind their house, Sarah's childhood sanctuary, was just a short walk away, but Karen insisted on driving, afraid the walk would ruin her heels. Sarah had smiled at her worrying and disagreed but Karen insisted, winning in the end. Funny how some things never changed.

After a day of setting up, the park looked magical at sunset. Twinkle lights were strung through tree branches and along the stone bridges. Tables for the guests sat to the left of the bar and the display of food the caterer had brought. A bartender in a white shirt and several servers in matching uniforms made the party seem more formal than it was. _Lorraine really went all out, _Sarah thought to herself as Karen gushed over the beauty of the scene. As they walked across the shady lawn, Karen and Robert were pulled aside by Karen's cousins and college friends, with Robert's hot on their tail. It wasn't long before their laugher echoed around the park.

"Want to sit with me and Derrick, Tobes?" Sarah asked her brother.

"Toby!"' a call rang out before he answered. Toby's friend Ashley was running over, lollipop in mouth. Behind her, Sarah could see a group of Toby's school friends. "Alex just got a new scooter, come see!"

Sarah saw Toby's eyes light up at the prospect and grinned. "Go on, have fun," she conceded.

"I'll see you later, Sarah!" he called as Ashley pulled him over to the circle of eleven year olds.

Sarah and Derrick wandered toward several small, round tables, each lit with a candle. As more people filtered into the grassy park, Sarah felt more and more aware that she was the only member of her immediate family who had not thought to invite friends. _Friends, what friends? _her inner voice sneered. It was true that not long after losing her magical friends in college, her human friends slowly trickled away as well. They had not been replaced by travel and life experience. The realization was saddening.

Even after her second glass of wine, Sarah's melancholy thoughts lingered. She sat through a multitude of speeches wishing Karen and Robert a happy anniversary. These ranged from the humorous to the tearful and all were heartfelt. Sarah smiled at the sight of her father, with his arm around her stepmother. Karen leaned into him and smiled with such love in her eyes that it made Sarah's heart ache to see. As if asking for reassurance, she squeezed Derrick's hand and rested her head on his shoulder.

Someone turned up the stereo that, until that point, had been buzzing quietly in the background, playing local radio. Now it emitted soft, instrumental music, Karen and Robert's wedding song. Sarah smiled at the familiar tune. Though she had been young, thirteen years old and angry with her father for remarrying, she still remembered dancing with herself at the wedding to the gentle music, making silent wishes and saying secret prayers for Prince Charming to come and save her from her wicked stepmother. It had been just a few days later that she found _The Labyrinth _on sale at a used bookstore in town.

Robert stood and took Karen's hand, leading her to a clear expanse in the middle of the tables. Family and friends whistled and clapped as they began to dance. They were slow and smiling, whispering memories in each other's ears.

"Do you want to dance?" Derrick asked.

"Yeah," Sarah said, smiling. She took his hand and followed him. They were now part of a crowd of couples, all swaying to the dreamy lilt of gentle strings.

Sarah sighed, resting her cheek against Derrick's shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her temple as the music swelled. Just as she closed her eyes, losing herself to the melody, Sarah caught a flash of pale hair in the crowd. She frowned and lifted her head, eyes searching frantically. Whatever it had been, it was gone now. Sarah settled back, resting against Derrick once more, trying to put her mind at ease. There it was again, in the corner of her eye, a flash of frosty blond.

"Sarah?" Derrick asked as her eyes searched the crowd.

"I'm fine," she said, but her voice was sharp with worry. With a final crescendo, the song ended and a new one began. Several couples split apart and retreated to their tables, the din of conversation rising. Sarah frowned, hoping that she wasn't so desperate to see the Goblin King that she was hallucinating. Derrick was still staring at her in concern.

"Baby, did you want to go back to the house?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," Sarah insisted, "really."

"Are you sure?" he continued. "You've been acting strange and—"

"Do you mind if I steal her away for a moment?"

Sarah whipped around to the source of the voice. It was a nice voice, low and accented, sparkling with laughter that verged on mockery, as if the speaker knew something about his words that the listener did not. Sarah knew who it was the instant that he spoke. She was unsure whether to throw her arms around him for showing up or throttle him for getting out of bed.

"Sure, man," Derrick said, shifting a little self-consciously before retreating to the tables.

"Evening, Sarah," Jareth said, taking her hand. His magic was stronger, he had shortened his wild hair somewhat and wore a suit, no tie, the first two buttons of his shirt undone. He was still utterly alien, ethereal among the mortal.

She smiled and shook her head, allowing him to pull her into the crowd. "Good evening, Goblin King."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Labyrinth does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

**Author's Note: **Here it is, the second half of Chapter 3. To avoid confusion, think of it as a fun size Chapter 4! Thanks so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites! I appreciate them all very much. Please read and review!

"An Explanation"

It was familiar, dancing with him, and agonizingly so. Of all of Sarah's adventures in the Labyrinth, the masked ball still confused her the most. What had he been playing at? For a moment, Sarah's teenage self had indulged wholly in the fantasy, allowing the king to sweep her off her feet. _For a moment I believed he loved me, _she thought. It had been a trick of course, she had realized as she grew older, a simple game to keep her off track. That fact, however, had not prevented her from fantasizing about it for a few years afterword in gratuitous detail. Now here she was, living it again. Jareth was not ballroom dancing this time, he was moving like a human, slow, box –like steps that the other partners were doing, humming along to the song. She was having trouble not breathing too deeply. Her body seemed to betray her mind and craved as much of his magical scent as it could inhale.

"So, what made you crash the party?" Sarah asked in his ear.

She could feel his shark-like smile against her cheek before she saw it. "I fancied a walk."

"You walked here? Jareth, you're supposed to be resting," Sarah scolded, drawing back slightly to look him over. He was standing straighter than ever and all his facial injuries were gone.

"I have rested," he said, "and my strength is nearly back."

Sarah shook her head with a frown. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Although he looked clearly exasperated, Sarah could see from the new spring in his step that he was pleased with her concern.

"You do seem to be feeling better," she admitted as he twirled her out and caught her. His large, warm hand splayed over the small of her back, pressing her closer.

"Oh, yes, very much so," he replied just as the song ended.

Derrick drifted awkwardly back to their side once again, waiting for a chance to cut in.

"Sarah?" he asked as she stepped away from Jareth.

"Oh, sorry Derrick," she said. "I forgot to introduce you two."

"That's okay," Derrick said, moving to shake Jareth's hand. "I'm Derrick, Derrick Grant, Sarah's fiancé. I didn't see you earlier."

"I'm Jareth, a friend of Sarah's," he said, clasping Derrick's hand with a visibly firm grip. _Well don't break him, Goblin King, _Sarah scolded mentally and gave Jareth a pointed look. "I'm sorry, I was rather late."

"No man, I understand," Derrick said and rumpled his hair. His attempts at looking comfortable with this stranger were failing. "Traffic's a nightmare."

"Indeed," Jareth answered in a cold voice. He tilted his head and studied the other man. "Do you mind if I keep her for one more dance? We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Oh, yeah, go ahead," Derrick said, speaking to Sarah instead of Jareth. "I need to finish talking to Michael about Hong Kong anyway, it's an important deal and I promised I would detail the statistic errors for him."

Jareth glared at him as the next song swelled and placed a possessive hand at her waist.

Sarah gave Jareth a reproachful look, he needed to control himself. Derrick leaned down and kissed her cheek as a new song began, slightly faster than the first. "I'll find you later, Sarah."

"Okay," she replied, but she was looking at Jareth. He pulled her close, swaying her gently with the music. His face buried in her hair for a moment, Sarah shivered. She pushed against his chest lightly. Jareth may be awakening some odd and wonderful feelings when he behaved that way, but it made her feel too confused. There was still so much she didn't know. Adding a fiancé to the mix certainly did not make things any easier. He drew back and kept a better distance, but his rakish smile seemed to suggest that he knew she had liked it. _What is he playing at? _Sarah thought. No matter what had transpired in the last day, she still didn't think she could trust him.

"Oh, Sarah," Karen's voice called. She danced into view on Robert's arm.

"Who's this?" her father asked, looking over the strange man dancing so closely with his daughter.

"This is Jareth," she said, wracking her brain for a good answer. "He's a friend; I've known him for a long time now."

Robert stuck out a hand which Jareth shook. It was a notably kinder handshake than he'd dealt Derrick.

"Pleasure to meet you," Jareth said.

"Where did you two meet?" Karen asked and studied Jareth as if she could discern an answer by staring hard enough.

"He used to, um, help me watch Toby once in a while," she said and immediately cringed, waiting for the lecture that was sure to come.

"Yes, but only on one occasion," Jareth finished.

Sarah saw her father and stepmother exchange glances, processing the worrying information. Luckily, one of Robert's college friends called out, "Hey, Rob! I have those photos from our vacation in Prague, come and see."

"We'll talk to you later, Sarah dear," Karen said, her voice exposing the concern she was feeling for her son being watched by a stranger. Yes, a lecture was most certainly coming soon.

Jareth took Sarah's hand and pulled her into a dance again. She tried not to look confused as he danced her out of earshot from the other partners, to the very edge of the party near the twinkle lit trees. The lights bathed the Goblin King in golden glow and Sarah was sure that she hadn't seen him look so well since they arrived. Jareth looked around carefully, as if making sure that no one was listening, leaned down and whispered, "I will tell you anything you wish to know, right now."

"Now?" Sarah asked. "Here?"

"Yes," he whispered. Sarah could tell that he was searching the party with wary eyes. "But it must be tonight, Sarah. Do you understand?"

"I do," she said. The urgency in his voice was making her tremble. "So you'll tell me anything?"

"I will," he answered. He still was not meeting her eyes. Now his gaze darted through the trees around them and Sarah had the impression he was listening for something.

"Will you tell me everything?" Sarah breathed, allowing herself to hope that he would.

"Yes," he said. Jareth danced Sarah further away from the throng of party goers, moving slow and dreamlike, and over to one of the old bridges, far from the crowd and across the water.

They stopped the dance, but Jareth still held her hand, pulling her behind him onto the old stone structure. Sarah had to chide herself inwardly for feeling so wistful. This was almost like a childhood fantasy come to life.

"Can anyone hear us here?" Jareth asked sharply, his eyes darting, shattering her thoughts.

"I don't think so, humans don't hear as well as you do," Sarah said.

He smiled in a self satisfied way and said, "Yes, your kind is severely lacking in auditory proficiency, the likes of which I cannot imagine, but I thought it best to check. I don't know who I can trust."

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, ignoring his jab and superior tone. She had waited too long for this to focus on his lighthearted insults.

"The Labyrinth has been infiltrated," he said plainly. He was trying to hide any emotion that he felt for the Labyrinth, but Sarah saw it for just a moment, flickering behind his eyes.

"Infiltrated?" she asked, feeling oddly cold in the May night air.

Jareth leaned back against the bridge, resting on his elbows. The wind played with his shortened hair, making Sarah's breath catch. It was not fair that he should be so beautiful.

"I don't know how I didn't notice," he began, his brow furrowed. "I should have noticed..."

Sarah frowned, he was evading explanation. "You said you would tell me everything," she said.

"And I will. It all began several years ago, in your time. I would receive reports of citizens not behaving like themselves, strange occurrences, and accidents. But this was the border land country, barely anyone lives out there. It's all brushy scrub and wasteland and these were isolated incidents. I wrote it off as nothing."

Sarah shivered at the ominous words. "Then what happened?" she prodded.

"After a few years, I began to get the same reports from the outer edges of the Labyrinth and found that a sick, pungent magic was being used, but I could not identify it. It wasn't until it spread like a plague to the Goblin City that I realized what had happened."

He was almost shaking, every muscle tensed. Sarah placed a hand on his arm, but he pulled away slightly, she dropped it. "What happened, Jareth? Tell me."

"We call them changelings," he said as if the word were a bad taste in his mouth. "The goblins coined the name, they heard it from a wished away Irish child with a penchant for jabbering."

Sarah wrinkled her brow. "After the creatures that replace children in fairy tales?"

"I suppose that may be right, but these creatures are all the more horrible," he said. "The changelings are living shadows. They take possession of things filled with life, particularly beings who hold magical energy, and consume them, replacing them and assuming their shape. My kingdom is full of ideal prey. I did not see what was happening until it was too late."

Sarah's mouth went dry as horror washed over her and she nearly retched. "What about Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and Ludo?"

"I don't know. Some took refuge in the forest, but they've been fighting a losing battle, warring with beings that look like former friends. Can you imagine that kind of confusion, Sarah? I don't know if their rebellion has lasted."

Sarah covered her face and choked on a sob. She did not want him to see her cry. He reached out a tentative hand and brushed her hair away from her face. It was the lightest of touches, the kind of touch that asks for permission, but brought comfort.

"The changelings have not acted alone," Jareth said, breathing in sharply with anger. Sarah was almost afraid of him for a moment when she saw the pure loathing on his face. "They have a leader, they call him the Consciousness."

Sarah could not face Jareth yet. She wiped frantically at her eyes and asked him, "Is it one of them?"

"Yes," he said. "But he believes that he isn't because of his superior abilities. He is their chosen sovereign and their chosen god, they obey his every whim and now he sits in my throne."

"He hurt you, didn't he?" Sarah asked, fury she had not known she possessed burned within her. Very lightly, she rested her hand on the slash in his side over his clothing, "He did this."

"Yes," Jareth admitted, his eyes narrowing. "When I am at full strength I shall do far worse to him."

Sarah shivered involuntarily at his words and withdrew her hand to cross her arms.

"Do you know how to beat them?" she asked.

"I believe I do, yes," Jareth answered cryptically, now staring into the dark water beneath them.

Sarah expected him to say more, but he was silent.

"Why did you really come here, Jareth? I know this wasn't an accident that you ended up flying through _my_ bedroom window, of all people's," Sarah said pointedly. "Why are you here?"

Instead of speaking, Jareth's face contorted into a petulant frown. Sarah whipped around and saw Derrick standing at the end of the bridge. What had he heard?

"Hey, babe," he said a bit awkwardly, shifting foot to foot. "Your dad was wondering where you were, he sent me to look for you."

"Okay, I'll be right there," Sarah said.

"Meet me back in your room," Jareth whispered in her ear, turning and walking away swiftly, in the direction of the trees.

"Jareth!" Sarah called after him, but he already disappeared into the darkness. She swore and kicked the stone of the old bridge. She had gotten so close to hearing the whole story.

"Come on," Derrick said, ignoring her outburst and pulling Sarah behind him back into the party.

Sarah knew that her family would likely spend a lot longer out in the park, at least until the bartender needed to leave. She was too impatient for that. While Derrick pulled her alongside him back into the crowd, Sarah knew what she had to do.

"Hey, Derrick?" she asked as they began dancing once more.

"Yeah babe?"

"My head hurts, I feel like I'm coming down with something," she said, trying her best to make her face match her words.

"You wanna go back to the house?" he asked, his eyebrows knotting in concern.

"Yeah, but you can stay, I mean, my dad still wants to talk to you about that deal in Hong Kong," she replied.

"You sure?" he asked and she knew just how much he wanted to. She nodded vigorously, impatient. Sarah saw Derrick's demeanor brighten a bit. "Yeah, okay," he said, giving her a quick kiss. "Feel better."

She slipped away after congratulating her father and Karen one more time and said goodbye to Toby. Once she was out of sight of the party she began to run back to the house. Her shoes were slowing her down; Sarah kicked them off and carried them. She continued racing through neighboring yards, avoiding decorative gnomes and gardening tools on old Mrs. Harris's lawn before running up the street. _I feel like I'm fifteen again_, she thought as her bare feet slapped grass then pavement. She could not get to the house fast enough and fumbled with her key. By the time she had run up the stairs and shut her bedroom door, she was completely breathless.

"Jareth?" she asked and frowned. "Jareth…" she said again, flipping on her light.

The room was empty and the Goblin King was nowhere to be found.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Labyrinth does not belong to me. It belongs to Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc. You get the point.

"Choices"

Sarah sat on the edge of her bed, eyes wide with disbelief. _It's not fair, _she thought, a bittersweet echo of her youthful self. He had disappeared, just like that. It most certainly wasn't fair, not when she was just beginning to believe, truly believe, in something more than her mundane life once again. Sarah smoothed out a wrinkle in her sheets that his sleeping body had formed, her shock numbed fingers savoring the texture of the fabric. Her room still smelled like him, sweetly magical. Small reminders of his stay were everywhere, a long blond hair on the pillow, dog-eared books casually stacked beside the bed, a small droplet of her blood stained the sheet from when she had sliced her skin with the scissors. Sarah had never realized just how much she wanted the magic of her childhood to come back, even if it came back in the form of arrogant, sarcastic Goblin Kings, too pretty for their own good.

With a sigh of finality, Sarah flopped back on her bed, her stomach strangely hollow. Things that had seemed so normal just twenty-four hours ago, like the impending drive back to Connecticut and her wedding next month, felt routine and numbing. How could one infuriating man change her priorities so much in just one day?

"Damn it, Jareth…" she whispered and punched her mattress half heartedly.

The sound of swift wings made her sit up and start. Sarah felt her jaw go slack as a slim white form, dappled with brown, flew smoothly through the open window. He began to transform just as he landed, from owl to man, in a shower of glitter.

"Come now, Sarah," Jareth said with a catlike tilt of his head. "Surely you didn't believe that I'd gone?"

Sarah felt her mouth open and shut, but no words came out. _I must look like a fish, _she thought, _a stupid fish. _She stood and gazed at him. He had changed his clothing, black armor with a high collar and cape, exactly as she had first seen him. The change of clothes gave Sarah a suspicion that he had been planning this little entrance of extravagance all day, just waiting for the right moment.

"You—," Sarah began, still edging forward until she stopped right in front of him.

"Yes?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Sarah narrowed her eyebrows and smacked at his shoulder. Jareth simply laughed and caught her arm as she tried to hit him again, "Now, now, Sarah. This is no time for violence."

She struggled against his hold for a moment before relaxing her arm. Her eyes dropped to the floor so he wouldn't see the emotions that swirled within her. "Don't you ever scare me like that again," she said, her voice rising despite her best efforts.

Jareth dropped his playful grip on her wrist and brushed her wild hair away from her face. "Never," he replied, shaking his head.

For a moment it was too much, his gloved hand lingering on her cheek, and his face so very close. That dwindling part of her brain that had reason told her to back away, but Sarah's body was rebelling as well as it could from her mind. _Kiss me_, she thought, unsure of where the treacherous idea had come from. The rational side of her won with an internal whisper of Derrick, and Sarah pulled away from the light touch of his fingertips.

"So, you're back," she said, clearing her throat.

"Clearly," Jareth answered, crossing his arms.

"And your magic, that's back too?"

"Yes, so it seems," he said and conjured a crystal just for show, dancing it between his fingers.

Sarah sucked in a breath at the sight of him, exactly as he had been ten years ago. He looked pleased by her reaction, too pleased. Sarah made a face at him, "Show off."

Jareth just gave an enigmatic smile and the crystal vanished. He began pacing and examined the mess of items littering her vanity. "I made you a promise, didn't I, precious?"

"Yes, you owe me the rest of that explanation," she replied.

Jareth nodded and paced a moment more, his mind seemed far away. Sarah sat back on the edge of her bed, waiting silently.

"Sarah?" he said, turning to her.

"Yes?" she prompted.

Jareth waited a moment to speak, as if weighing his words carefully. "My magic is back. I regained what I lost fighting the Consciousness and then some. I have enough to return to the Labyrinth now."

"I thought you might," she whispered. Frustrating and cryptic as he could be, now that he had pulled his small trick on her Sarah was all too aware of how sad she would be to see him go.

He strode over to where she sat on the end of the bed and knelt in front of her, she raised an eyebrow at his formality. "I want you to come with me," he said. Sarah was sure she saw a spark of hope in his eye.

"What?" Sarah asked in a hushed voice.

"It's not just a passing fancy," he said, standing, his face passive and calm once again. Why did he need to be so good at hiding his emotions from her? "I need you."

_Whoa, _Sarah thought. She would never have guessed those words would sound so tempting. Jareth seemed to sense her confusion and smirked in a frustrating, self-satisfied way. "I assure you that I'm being quite literal, precious. I cannot do this without you."

"This being…?" Sarah asked, her confusion heightening with every sentence he spoke.

Jareth made a frustrated noise. "I must regain my kingdom from the changelings."

"I know, that's what you said at the party," Sarah said, frowning. She ran her fingers through her hair, thinking over his words. "You want me to go with you?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Back to the Labyrinth?"

"Again, Sarah, yes," he replied.

Sarah bit her lip and let out a shaky breath. She had fantasized about it of course, returning one day. It was a frequent daydream that she indulged in, although admittedly not of late. She never could have imagined just how alluring the offer to go back was.

"Why me?" she asked.

A crease appeared in Jareth's brow, "Oh, Sarah. Sweet Sarah…," the epithet was whispered so softly she barely heard it. The thought occurred that maybe she wasn't supposed to. There was that undeniable yearning in his voice that made her breath catch every time she heard it. _This isn't happening, _she thought to herself for the thousandth time. "You're my Champion."

The way he said it made her heart swell. His voice lacked the usual sarcasm, he was baring something private and treasured to her in the simplest terms possible. He was telling her what he truly thought of her. That one sentence alone almost made her say yes.

Before she could answer, Sarah heard the front door shut and the murmur of voices. "My family's home," she said, her voice still hushed. "I don't know what to do. I want—"

Jareth silenced her with a finger to her lips. It took all her willpower not to kiss it. What was happening to her?

"You don't have to decide now. I'll be back. Think it over, Sarah," he said and transformed again right before her eyes.

"I am never going to get used to that," Sarah muttered as he flew out her open window.

_You're my Champion, _she repeated internally, _Help me. I need you._ There was something empowering about those words, all of those words. For the past few years, Sarah had lived her life as someone who wrote about life but rarely lived it. Jareth made her feel like a heroine in a fairy tale again. _My Champion, _her mind repeated warmly.

"Knock, knock," Derrick said, opening the door to see Sarah standing and staring at her open window. "Hey, you okay?"

"What?" Sarah asked, dazed. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine, Derrick."

"Headache still bothering you?" he asked and walked forward to squeeze her shoulders comfortingly.

"Yeah," she said. Sarah could not figure out why the emotions were rising now, but tears stung her eyes, surprising her.

"Shhh," Derrick soothed, wrapping his arms around her. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," she said and let out a short laugh before kissing him chastely. She needed to keep her head straight. "I honestly don't know."

Sarah breathed in Derrick's scent as he held her. It wasn't nearly as enticing as the Goblin King's, she had to admit it to herself, but he smelled nice, like fabric softener and night air. She breathed it in deeply. Something about that scent grounded her to reality.

"Derrick?" she said against the material of his shirt.

"Yeah, babe?"

Sarah hugged him closer and sighed. "I love you, you know that don't you?"

"Yes, Sarah, I know," he said and pulled back, kissing her nose. "I'm going to get a cup of coffee, do you want some?"

"No," she said and shook her head. She knew what she had to do. "I'm just going to go to bed."

With a final squeeze, Derrick was gone.

Sarah grabbed her pajamas and headed to the bathroom. She thought of the previous night she had spent in the tiny, cramped room as she showered. A single tear escaped before Sarah screwed up her eyes to keep the others at bay. No, she wasn't going to cry. As painful as it was, she knew what she was going to do.

* * *

Sarah curled up in bed with her notebook, bedside lamp still bright. She glanced at the open window before checking clock beside her. It was almost one o'clock in the morning. She returned her attention to the leather-bound book before her. No ideas for stories, characters, or plots had come since her writer's block began to plague her and Sarah was finding that she didn't care much anymore. Working seemed so trivial in the wake of Jareth's arrival. Why should she write something she had no heart in just to meet her publisher's deadline? Despite no words flowing from her pencil, the page in front of Sarah was full. It was a drawing, rough and lightly shaded, depicting the Labyrinth the way she remembered it. She penciled in the stones that made the walls and the castle an unattainable goal in the distance. An owl flew high above the trees of the Fiery Forest. Sarah paused before drawing in her three childhood friends at the entrance to the Labyrinth, waving and welcoming. A treacherous tear escaped her eye and Sarah shook with the pain of withholding a good sob for so long. Had her dearest friends really died, and in such a terrible way? Sarah could hardly take the pain of it and tossed the notebook aside so she could curl up, knees to her chest.

"Get a grip, Sarah," she whispered shakily to herself. "You know what you have to do."

"What would that be, precious?"

"Jareth," Sarah said and sat straight up in bed.

The Goblin King had flown through her window and transformed once again before her. She felt silly in her patterned flannel shorts and tank top with him wearing armor, but that was the least of her worries. Her heart began to pound quicker as her mental reassurances of reality began failing her.

"Have you decided?" Jareth asked, going to her bookshelf and thumbing through it. "I should think you had, I've given you a few good hours."

When she didn't answer, he turned to look at her. "Sarah?"

Sarah still sat on her bed, arms crossed, head down. She couldn't look at him.

Jareth walked across the room in what seemed to be a few swift steps and knelt down before her. His eyes raked over her, as if inspecting her for harm. "Are you all right, love?"

Sarah crossed her arms tighter and shook her head, biting her lip until she tasted blood. With a shaky breath she said. "I can't go, Jareth. I just can't."

He withdrew from her as if she had burned him, turning quickly so that she couldn't see his face.

"Please understand," Sarah said as he retreated to her bookshelf. "I have a life here. I can't abandon it for a world that I don't understand. I can't leave my family."

He was a man attempting to look unmoved, but his shaking gave him away. For a moment, Sarah feared him. Jareth turned to her, his face was cold and his eyes hard. Never had an expression cut her so deeply. Forget the twinges of shame that arose when her bewildering attraction to him took over. Sarah hadn't known real guilt until she saw that look on his face.

"I understand," he said coldly. "Why should I think Sarah Williams would help me save my dying land when she has a _life _here? How very selfish of me."

"Jareth, don't do that," Sarah said, standing, arms still crossed protectively. "You _know_ what I meant. You aren't being fair."

Jareth walked toward her with slow steps, smirking openly at her words and making her feel like a child. Sarah wanted to run, but bit her lip and stared him down. He stopped right in front of her and stared at her bed pointedly. Sarah turned to see what he was looking at, the single drop of blood that stained the sheet from her self-inflicted scissor cut. Sarah was all too aware of the heat of his body that warmed her from shoulders to knees. He was so close.

"I really thought that you would come," he whispered in her ear from behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. "You spilt your blood for me, Sarah."

Sarah shivered at his words and turned to face him. He dropped his hold on her immediately. "It doesn't mean that I don't want to go. I care about you, but I'm confused, I just —"

"You love him too much," Jareth said. It was a simple observation in tone, but he was clenching his jaw. He chuckled at the sight of her frightened face. "Ah, my Sarah, you can say it, I won't bite."

Sarah eyed his sharp teeth as he spoke but held her ground. "Yes, I love Derrick too much to leave him."

"What about your friends?" Jareth said softly, cutting her to the quick. "How much do you love them?"

"Ouch, that one hurt, Jareth," Sarah whispered with a humorless laugh. It was an empty strangled noise, utterly terrible to hear. "You told me they probably died already. How can I ever un-hear that?"

Jareth raised an eyebrow but made no further argument. He had played every card he was willing to use and Sarah knew that she had won. _Just like last time,_ she thought, numb, _you have no power over me, Jareth. With a choice this hard, I almost wish you did_. He withdrew completely, not speaking, not meeting her eyes and retreated to the bookshelf, a mask of indifference in defeat.

"Jareth," she said. "Look at me."

He wouldn't. Sarah surprised herself by doing something that was both courageous and very stupid. She walked over to the shelves as her temper flared and caught his face in her hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers. He was angry, terribly angry, but his face softened as she gently caressed his cheek. Jareth sighed and took her hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"I shouldn't have assumed anything," he said, catching one of her hands and holding it, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on the skin of her inner wrist. "I gave you a choice."

"Jareth…" Sarah whispered. The rest of her sentence was lost as she finally let out the built up tears caused by no sleep, a guilty conscience, and an impossible decision. He immediately relaxed, the tension leaving his body as his arms encircled her. Though Sarah had thought he acted to comfort her, Jareth pressed his face into her hair and kissed the crown of her head, his fingers digging into her skin as he clutched her to him. Sarah realized that he was allowing himself one moment without control, just a moment to give himself something that he desperately needed. This measure of vulnerability from the likes of him terrified Sarah more than if he had struck her.

"I'm sorry," she said, unsure of whether or not to return the tight embrace. "I'm so sorry."

Jareth shook his head. "No," he said in a reluctant tone and laughed. "For once I suppose that I wasn't _fair._"

Sarah tried to pull back but he held her closer and shook his head. She relaxed as she realized why he wouldn't let go. _He's going back and might die, _she thought, _and you may never see him again. He's saying goodbye. _Never was a very long time. Sarah's stomach swooped unpleasantly and she wrapped her arms around his waist in a loose hold, unsure of how injured he still was.

After what felt like an age, Jareth finally released her and stepped back. Sarah wiped her eyes once more and tried to smile. She felt a twist of embarrassment for her blotchy, tear-stained face, while his was a perfect mask of calm.

"How soon are you leaving?" she asked.

"Soon," he answered, always the enigma.

"Can I give you something, before you go?" Sarah asked, walking toward her bed.

Jareth grinned. "Sarah, you little minx. If you insist…"

"Not that," Sarah said and rolled her eyes as she stopped at the bedside table. _Although that's not such a bad idea, _her inner voice suggested gleefully. "My books."

That took him slightly by surprise. Jareth tilted his head and asked, "What about them, precious?"

"You can take any of them you want, I know that you did a lot of reading while you were here and you marked some pages." Sarah took the battered copy of _Wuthering Heights_, which had seen the most damage, and handed it to him. "Add them to your library when you take back the Labyrinth."

Jareth held the book carefully, as if it were something precious and valuable. "Thank you, sweetling," he said in the softest whisper, running a finger down the spine of it.

"You can take any that you want," Sarah said, gesturing to the stack at her bedside table and to the rows of books in their shelves.

Jareth picked several more books, adding them into a small pile held aloft in his left hand. Sarah felt a rush of warmth that two of her novels were included.

"How will you carry them?" she asked, wondering if she had made a mistake with her gift.

"You forget how well you healed me, Sarah," he said and produced a crystal between his free fingers, letting it dance across his knuckles for a moment. Soon it began to glow, a warm, dim light. Sarah watched in awe as he let the crystal sink through the pile of books in his opposite hand. It was as if they closed in on each other, folding within the sphere of light. Jareth twirled it between his fingers and it disappeared.

"Right, magic," Sarah said with a shake of her head. She would definitely never get used to that. Sarah sat at the edge of her bed. She sighed and said, "Jareth?"

"Yes?"

"Will you wait to leave until I fall asleep?" she asked with a self-conscious laugh, feeling terribly childish.

"Might I ask, why?"

How was it that he could almost sense her embarrassment? Sarah sucked in a breath and whispered, "Because when I wake up in the morning, and think that you coming here was a dream, I want to remember that you were here until the very last minute."

"If that's the case," Jareth said and walked over to where she sat, "then of course I will."

Sarah tried to get under the covers gracefully, feeling too big, in more ways than just the physical, for her princess bed. Jareth still stood over her, looking surreal and otherworldly to her tired eyes. She patted the side of the mattress. "Sit with me," she said, her voice thick with exhaustion.

Jareth sat down beside her on the bed's edge. Sarah turned on her side to face him, her stomach almost touching his back. She could feel the lost hours of sleep catching up to her, but the moment she slept was the moment he was gone.

"Jareth?" she said, barely holding onto consciousness.

"Yes, love?" he replied and reached out to push her hair away from her face in a soothing rhythm.

"I don't want you to go," Sarah breathed out, exhausted, her fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve as if to do so would hold him there forever.

"I don't want you to stay," he whispered in reply. He gently pried his arm free from her grasp and kissed her knuckles, something she wasn't sure he would have done if she were fully awake.

Sarah's eyes shut tightly and dreams were beginning to creep into the edges of her mind. But she could still feel the whisper of his hand stroking her hair and the ghost of lips kissing her cheek, lingering there a moment too long as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Goodbye, Sarah Williams," was the last thing she heard before sleep claimed her.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This is NOT the end of the story. I repeat, definitely not the end. Anyone else who's a bit annoyed with Sarah and her decision, raise your hand.

I have also gone back in my other chapters and edited a couple of grammar mistakes and repeated words that were bothering me when I reread them. I'm toying with the idea of getting a beta and have started shopping around for one. If there are any major spelling or grammar mistakes that somehow evaded my editing, please let me know.

Thank you to all of you who have read and either reviewed, made this a favorite, or followed the story. I really appreciate the feedback and opinions, that's what keeps writers writing!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Labyrinth and probably never will. It is the property of Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

"Changed"

"Sarah, Sarah wake up, come on baby, wake up." A voice was calling out to her from somewhere far away. Each syllable was an ominous echo in her ear, dragging her out of the shroud of sleep. Sarah writhed a bit on soft sheets, trying to escape from its jarring tone.

"Sarah, dear," another voice said in a warning tone that betrayed an inner frantic concern. "You're too old for this, please wake up."

"What are we going to do?" a third voice asked, this one maternal, soft, and laced with worry.

"Well, we can't just let her stay in bed," the first voice replied.

"Jareth?" Sarah breathed in a soft whisper, her eyes fluttering open to see three figures standing above her.

"Sarah, honey, are you all right?"the third voice asked. It was her stepmother Karen, her fear etched into every line on her face. Each figure swirled into view as Sarah's eyes adjusted to the light.

She was in her bed, Derrick, Karen, and Robert stood around her, staring down in concern. By the look of the dappled sunlight streaming through the window, it was late afternoon and overcast. Sarah sat straight up and immediately groaned. Her head was throbbing as if a mallet pounded her skull.

"What time is it?" she asked weakly, holding her head in her hands. She could feel every bad decision from the last two days. No sleep, strong coffee, too much to drink, and a crying jag had left her with one hell of a headache.

"Four o'clock in the afternoon," Derrick replied bitterly, looking exasperated.

"You had the door locked and it took us a very long time to get in, Sarah. Toby was scared to death, we had to send him over to Billy's house to distract him," her father scolded, running a hand over his already mussed hair. His voice dropped with anxiety. "We thought that something may have happened to you."

"I'm fine, daddy, I swear," she said and tried to stand up.

"Shhh," Karen soothed and made her sit. "Sarah, your eyes are all puffy. Were you crying?"

"No," Sarah said, shaking her head. A lump formed in her throat as the events of last night played in her head. Jareth was gone. The bizarre pain of it struck her all over again.

"Maybe you should stay in bed, just one more day," Karen said, looking her over with a critical eye. "You two could drive back tomorrow."

"No," Derrick interrupted, crossing his arms. "No, I have a very important meeting tomorrow. It can't be missed."

"Well, Derrick, maybe you could drive back and Sarah could stay with us for just a—,"

"No," Derrick said again, insistent. "It won't work. Sarah's meeting with the wedding planner on finishing details. It's her last chance before June."

Karen and Robert both looked like they wanted to say something. Sarah spoke up first, her empty voice foreign to her own ears. "He's right, I'll go back today. It's fine. I'm _fine_."

She didn't mention that staying in her bedroom was too much of a reminder of the Goblin King, whom they knew nothing about in any case. She couldn't tell them about the dull ache, like the sorrow of adolescent rejection, that had formed in her chest, making it harder to breathe when she thought of what she had given up. Sarah wasn't sure that she could take another minute, let alone another day in her room.

"If you're sure," her father began. Sarah knew he did not believe her.

"Honestly, dad," she said, "I'm all right. Now, all of you, please, just go, I need to change."

They filed out of the room silently, as if they knew that she did not want to speak. The moment they were gone, Sarah locked the door again behind them, the events of the previous night playing out in her mind. _Did I make the wrong decision? _Sarah thought to herself. She hadn't known it would hurt so badly, and why should it? Jareth had only come back into her life for a grand total of twenty-four hours, but Sarah could not deny that she had been irrevocably changed. _Just like the first time, _she thought.

She dressed quickly in a thin blousy shirt and jeans, not even bothering to take a shower or put on makeup. After packing all her things in a haphazard manner, Sarah ventured downstairs.

"Sarah!"

Sarah was almost knocked off her feet by Toby at the landing as he caught her in a tight hug.

"Hey, kiddo," she said and realized he was crying. Her ten-year old brother, who loved bugs and scooters and eating Skittles with his friends, who insisted that he not be treated like a baby anymore, was crying like he hadn't in years. Sarah dropped down to her knees to study him. "What's wrong, Tobes?"

"I thought that you were never going to wake up," Toby said, squeezing her tight once again.

"Hey, it's okay," she soothed and rocked him gently in the hug. "I'm okay."

His voice dropped to a low whisper in her ear, laced with terror, "I thought that shadow man got you."

Sarah immediately froze, her insides felt like ice and her heart pounded in her ears. She drew back slowly to study her stricken younger brother. "Toby, what are you talking about?"

Toby glanced around the landing, his eyes wide. This wasn't Toby just pulling a prank. The stark reality of a terrified child was undeniable and written all over his face. "I got up for water last night and saw a shadow man outside your bedroom."

_Living shadows, _Sarah's mind repeated Jareth's words and she shivered. She stared at Toby with intensity, her voice quick and low as she said, "Toby, I need you to tell me exactly what you saw."

Toby took a deep breath and said in a hushed whisper, still looking shaken, "A shadowy man was standing outside your room last night, he tried to get in but he couldn't when he tried, and I ran back to my room. It was so scary, Sarah."

Sarah relaxed slightly. Hadn't her father said that she had locked her door? Maybe it had been her father, or Derrick. Heck, it could have even been Karen if it was dark enough, not necessarily something evil. Toby had been tired and jumpy and it was the middle of the night. Either way there was no use scaring Toby about it, or telling anyone for that matter. If it was something magical, from Jareth's world, there was no way that she or any of her family would be able to deal with it.

"It's okay, Toby. I'm fine, he didn't get in," Sarah said with a confidence that she didn't quite feel.

"Yeah," Toby said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. "He couldn't, like I said."

"Right, the door was locked," Sarah answered, distracted anew by the emotions surfacing within her. She loved Toby, too much to put into words, but the urge to wallow in her own confused misery was strong and she had a long car ride ahead of her to do it.

"No, it wasn't the lock." Toby shook his head, smiling for the first time since she had seen him that morning. "Your door was bright when he touched the knob!"

"Toby, what on earth are you—?"

"There you are sleepy beauty," her father called, walking into the living room.

"Hi, dad," Sarah said, taking Toby's hand and leading him all the way downstairs behind her, his words buzzing in her mind.

"Feeling better, Sarah? Are you hungry?" Karen asked, entering the room from the kitchen. "I ordered pizza."

"Pizza!" Toby cried out and ran to his mother.

"Yes, Toby," she said. "And you can help Derrick and I set the table."

Toby made a groan of protest, but followed his mother back into the kitchen to complete the unwelcome task. Sarah grinned at the sight of Toby following so reluctantly, dragging his feet.

"You want a bite to eat before you go?" Robert asked, turning to Sarah.

Sarah knew she was hungry after sleeping for so long, but shook her head, "No, Derrick seems to be in a big hurry. We'll just get me some drive thru food on the way home."

Sarah was startled to see that her father looked concerned. "What is it, dad?"

He put his hands on Sarah's shoulders and led her further from the kitchen where Derrick, Toby, and Karen were. Robert stopped and stared down at his daughter. "You don't have to do _everything_ he says, you know?"

"Who?" Sarah asked and raised a surprised eyebrow. "Derrick?"

Her father nodded, his face etched with unease. "My Sarah, my little girl, would never allow anyone to expect that of her."

_Do as I say, _her mind taunted. "You're right, she wouldn't," Sarah whispered.

She stopped for a moment, pondering the changes that she had undergone in the last few years, all the normal things she had grown to desire and the fantasy she had given up. Those choices had all been unwound and reformed in just a day, all by one maddening Goblin King.

"I just hope that everything's all right between you two," her father prompted, a line of worry etched between his eyebrows.

"I'm fine dad, Derrick couldn't hurt a fly. Besides, we want the same things most of the time," Sarah explained with what she hoped was a sincere smile.

"And when you don't?" he asked, his voice lower. "Sarah, I don't approve of the way he talks to you. Most of the time I'd say you picked a keeper, but when he gets like this…"

Sarah felt her smile drop a bit. "Wow, you're serious, aren't you?"

"I'm just worried. You don't know, you weren't awake when he was complaining about you sleeping and being late driving back," Robert said, his face darkening. He shook his head and his voice softened, "You know, if you want to stay here with us a few days, play with Toby, visit old friends, reevaluate this situation, I wouldn't say anything against it."

"Thanks, daddy," Sarah said, touched. "I really appreciate it, I do. But I think I'm going home."

Her father seemed to know that she would say it, but frowned anyway. His words had left Sarah feeling unsettled and confused.

"Can I have a rain check on that offer?" Sarah asked.

"Okay, Sarah," Robert said, giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Rain check."

* * *

"God damn it," Derrick growled in frustration, honking at the stationary cars before them. His impulsive act led to at least twenty other car horns blaring all around them. Sarah rested her cheek against the cool glass of the window and sighed.

They had finally begun their long drive back to New York at six. It seemed that Robert and Karen had tried their best to keep her home for as long as possible, and succeeded in stalling for a solid two hours. Robert talked with Derrick about his fledgling career and offered advice, regardless of Derrick's protests about traffic and highly important meetings in the morning. Karen had shown Sarah her wedding jewelry and detailed how she had planned out the location and theme in accordance with her childhood fascination of the Regency era, despite Sarah explaining that she had already done everything but meet with photographers.

When the pizzas arrived, Toby begged Sarah to stay and eat a little, and how could she say no to that face? Derrick was in a decidedly bad mood as they sat around the dinner table, sulking and barely speaking. It was an ugly reminder of the summer after graduation, the year they had wanted her to come home. He had behaved exactly like this.

The overcast sky gave way to a light drizzle a quarter before six and now, at nearly half past seven, it was pouring down on the traffic jammed highway a merciless storm. With the bad weather, the car had barely moved at all in the last hour. They were still in New York, no closer to Connecticut than they had been an hour ago.

"Derrick?" Sarah said, leaning back in her seat, her knees to her chest. "Are you sure that we can make it back tonight?"

"We _will _make it back tonight," Derrick said with determined eyes on the unmoving car before them. His arms tensed so tightly that veins popped, as if at any moment he needed to move, and quickly. "I cannot believe that your parents kept us there for another two hours. We would be back home by now if it wasn't for them."

"Hey, you're upset, I get that. This traffic is a nightmare, but don't be such an ass about it," Sarah snapped.

Derrick didn't say anything. He gave the steering wheel a tight squeeze, his knuckles red with the effort, and stared at the road in obvious fury.

Sarah ignored his sulking and turned on the radio, fumbling with the buttons in search of a traffic report buried somewhere between fuzzy pop and golden oldies. She and Derrick rarely fought, but when they did it was a grudge match for hours, alternating between silence and shouting. Right now, Sarah was hoping the quiet would last. She lacked the energy to raise her voice. Sarah found the right station and the radio newscaster's muffled voice flowed through the car.

"It's time for the hourly traffic watch, folks. It looks like the I-94 North is closed down near White Plains. Heavy rain and fog have caused a four car pileup at Exit 85."

"It's a miracle no one was hurt, Chet. Just minor cuts and bruises," the other newscaster replied.

Sarah sighed and stared out the rain streaked window into the blackness. All around her were glowing tail lights and other perturbed drivers, anxious to get home. Another nameless driver honked in annoyance and earned a reactionary shout somewhere to the left of them. Outside the window, through the blurred glass, Sarah could see the black shapes of birds flying overhead illuminated each time lightning struck. A larger, whitish blur broke up the circle of common pigeons. Sarah's heart leaped and she begun rolling down her window.

"What are you doing?" Derrick said, "Sarah, it's pouring out there! You'll ruin the seats."

She reluctantly rolled the window back up.

"Well one thing's for sure, Chet, the I-94 is shut down for the night," the newscaster said. "Off-roads are still open, folks. So—"

Derrick shut off the radio with a sharp punch of his finger and rubbed his temples. "Damn it," he said under his breath.

"Let's just get off the highway," Sarah said. "We can get a motel room or something. It's going to take hours if we try to drive home tonight on the off-roads. Please Derrick? We'll go home in the morning."

Derrick mumbled to himself before maneuvering to the exit, receiving honks and exclamations of protest in response. Finally, they were moving. The exit opened to a cracked street in the midst of dense foliage, bordered by a string of buildings that had evolved to serve the highway voyager. Everything was twenty-four hour restaurants with all day breakfasts and motels with blinking neon vacancy signs. Sarah sighed in exhaustion and relief as Derrick pulled into the parking lot of the closest traveler's refuge.

The small lobby of the motel was lit in lurid florescent lighting with a garish, spiraling wallpaper pattern in the palest greens and purples. Sarah wrinkled her nose at the smell of rancid coffee coming from the open office door behind the counter as her wet feet squeaked across linoleum floor. A small balding man in a rain-soaked poncho stood behind the desk, shaking out an umbrella.

"Two?" he asked, boldly eyeing the drenched strangers in his lobby.

"Yes, sir," Derrick replied, thumbing through his wallet for cash.

"That's forty-five for the night," the man replied, taking the money and handing Derrick a key. "You're in 110."

Sarah followed Derrick back out to the car for their bags and were further pelted with raindrops. Her thin shirt became plastered to her skin as if glued there as she heaved her bag into their refuge for the night. The room was much nicer than the lobby. The bed was large and adorned with soft looking pillows and clean sheets, better than what Sarah had expected after hearing motel horror stories of roaches and nastily stained comforters. Although most of it was decorated in a questionable color of maroon, there was a small kitchenette with a coffee maker, and robes and towels in the bathroom. Perfectly acceptable lodging for the night.

"I'm going to take a bath, my head is still killing me," Sarah said once they settled in.

"Okay, baby," Derrick replied with a huff, flopping down on the bed in his soaked clothing.

Sarah sat in the bathtub as long as she could, taking in a lungful of steaming air each time she breathed and listening to the angry rain outside pound the roof above her. The water cooled and her fingers wrinkled, but Sarah was unwilling to leave the sanctuary of the tub. Her fingers scrubbed her scalp mercilessly with the travel size shampoo while she tried to think.

_I hope Jareth's all right,_ her mind whispered, shuddering at the thought of him fighting those horrific things he had described as she dunked her head beneath the surface, clouding the water with soap. She felt so helpless as she pictured it, wishing that there was some way for her to help. _What's said is said, there's no taking it back. Jareth is gone, _she reminded herself grimly. He was never coming back and she would live her life precisely as she had planned it, without the Goblin King. The soft ache in her chest flared again and Sarah's stomach twisted in guilt.

"Please be all right," she whispered aloud, reverent as a prayer.

* * *

"Damn it," Derrick swore loudly from the other room as she was drying off and changing into her pajamas.

"Are you okay out there?" Sarah called, dragging her brush through the tangles in her hair as she exited the bathroom.

"No," he said, pacing in frustration. "I left my wallet in the lobby."

"Then go get it," Sarah said, still frustrated with him for being so pig-headed.

"And leave you here alone?" he asked, as if it were unthinkable.

"Excuse me, I'm an adult. I can take care of myself," Sarah said, flaring up.

Derrick glared at her. "Fine, I will. But you saw that lowlife manager, what kind of people do you think stay in a place like this? I just don't want anything to happen to you, baby."

Sarah stared him down and gestured to herself, "Again, I am a fully grown human being here."

"Just, don't go anywhere," Derrick muttered before leaving with an extra hard slam of the door.

Sarah huffed in frustration and returned to the bathroom to finish brushing her hair. "Treats me like a child. He's the only person I'm ever with," she grumbled angrily and tugged on a stubborn snarl in her hair with more force than necessary. Sarah let the brush clatter on the counter and looked in the mirror with a sigh, remembering other mirrors and happier times. Fear for her friends invaded her thoughts and blocked out her anger towards Derrick.

"I still need you. What wouldn't I give to talk to you, any of you, right now…" she said and gently touched the glassy surface.

The mirror changed in an instant, exactly as it used to in her adolescence. Sarah shrank against the wall as Hoggle's welcome face appeared before her. He looked tired, hungry, and a smear of dirt marked his cheek. There was a wariness in his face now that he had never possessed before, the kind of expression that could only have come from living through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, but he was alive. Even more, he recognized her, she could tell from his eyes. He was still himself and had not been consumed by the changelings. Hoggle was all right.

"Sarah?" he asked in shock, blinking at her in disbelief.

"Hoggle!" she said and stepped closer to the mirror. "Oh, Hoggle, you're okay!"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Sarah," he said, his eyes glancing around behind her.

"What about Ludo? Sir Didymus too?" she asked. Her voice rose with emotion, but Sarah didn't care.

"They're fine, just fine," he explained kindly, tilting his head to study her. "We've been living in the forest, filled with changers of course, things have taken over, but—"

"Oh, thank God," she whispered in relief, clutching at the counter's edge like a lifeline. "I thought that you all had been taken."

"No, Didymus smelled out the changelings before they reached us at the Labyrinth's edge. Bloody fox can't smell much at all for the most part, but when he can he's awful useful, and then…" Hoggle stopped his story and frowned. "Sarah, how did you know something was wrong?"

"Long story," she said with a shaky laugh. "Your Goblin King ended up here, Aboveground, and staying in my old house."

Hoggle breathed in sharply with shock. "You saw Jareth?"

"Yes," she answered.

"He's alive?"

"Yes, Hoggle," she answered. "I mean, he was hurt, but he's better now. He only stayed for about a day, he left last night, to go back to the Labyrinth and fight those…things."

"We thought he was dead, or maybe turned out a coward," Hoggle said and visibly shuddered. "It's been awful, Sarah, just awful."

"But you aren't hurt?" she asked again. "All of you, you're all right, honestly?"

"We're fine. We've been hiding from the changers, like I said. They're dangerous but not too bright, and you can ward them off when they're shadowy with just a bit of light," he answered. Hoggle's brow knotted in concern. "What about you, are you all right, Sarah?"

"Of course," Sarah answered, confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, it's been so long since you've tried to talk to me," Hoggle said, shifting uncomfortably. "I thought you'd forgotten us, or maybe something worse."

"No, Hoggle, there must be some mistake," Sarah said slowly. "I've been trying to talk for you for years now, you just stopped answering me."

"Sarah, we haven't heard a thing. Honestly, I—," he broke off abruptly. Hoggle's eyes darted around in fear, "Something's coming. It sounds like it's with you."

"Hoggle, wait!" Sarah said as he faded from the mirror.

"Same old Hoggle," she whispered with a small laugh at the sight of him running away. The familiarity of it made a bubble of hope form inside of her. They were all safe. The knowledge gave her newfound optimism.

The sound of footsteps startled her and Sarah's heart began to hammer.

"Sarah?" Derrick's voice called out.

"In here," she said meekly, unsure of how much Derrick had heard and when he had arrived back. Another concern blossomed in her mind. She was uncertain of what to make of Hoggle's parting words, unable to fathom why their communication had been blocked.

"You okay, babe?" he said slowly. "I heard voices."

Sarah's heart pounded faster, unsure of what to say. "I was…talking to myself," she said.

"Oh?" Derrick replied, raising his eyebrows.

"What about you, did you find your wallet?" she asked, suddenly wary that she and Derrick may not be safe in the motel, and not because of his mortal suspicions. Hoggle had heard something that frightened him, perhaps something from the Underground. As irritating as he was being, she had to keep Derrick safe.

He pulled the wallet from his pocket. "Yep, I told you that guy was scum. He tried to tell me he didn't see where it was. Then I pointed out that it had 'fallen' between two files on his desk."

Sarah frowned at his superior manner and sighed. She didn't have the energy to argue, emotionally or physically. Had she really chosen this over the Labyrinth? "Derrick, I just want to go to sleep."

If she could get him to fall asleep, perhaps she could call on Hoggle again and find out what was on her side of the mirror.

Derrick shook his head once, blocking her from walking any nearer to the bed. "Sarah, I want to know who you were really talking to first."

She felt her stomach drop in surprise. With a sickening realization, Sarah remembered that she had never heard him shut the door.

"How long were you really standing there before you said anything?" she asked, her voice accusing him unabashedly.

"A while," Derrick replied, unconcerned. "You're my fiancé, Sarah. We're supposed to be truthful to one another."

There he went again, invoking her guilt. Sarah felt more anger at him for his sneaking than remorse for her lie. Why should she feel guilty for his eavesdropping? His tendency for nosing around made her start with newfound comprehension.

"How long have you been spying on me when I didn't know it?" Sarah asked, her voice hushed.

Derrick shook his head. "It's not spying when you have a responsibility to someone. You're going to be my wife, Sarah. Forgive me, but I think that I'm a bit _entitled _to knowing what's going on in your life."

"I'm allowed to have my privacy," she replied, slowly backing away from him, inching to the front door.

"Is it privacy you want or secrets?" Derrick asked. _There he goes with that guilt inducing voice again, _Sarah thought. "Tell me, Sarah, how much do you really keep from me? I saw you with that man at the party."

_That was a low blow_, Sarah thought. She continued to inch away from him, her back rested on the door that led out to the parking lot. Sarah's fingers found the doorknob behind her and she held it tentatively, in case she needed to run. "I can spend time with my friends if I feel like it."

"No, you are my fiancé and should be spending your time with me," he said, clenching his fists, "not with anyone else, unless I approve of it, particularly not that meddlesome Goblin King."

"You sexist pig—," Sarah froze and felt her fingers slip from the doorknob. _Goblin King, _her mind repeated in Derrick's voice then immediately screamed, _Run!_

Sarah fumbled for the doorknob again and was thrown off of her feet from the side.

"Get off of me!" Sarah screamed as she hit the ground. She was trying to injure every inch of him she could reach with slaps, punches, and kicks as they struggled for dominance in the fight, a tangle of arms and legs on the floor.

Derrick laughed as they knocked into a small end table. The lamp sitting upon it fell and shattered, startling Sarah for just a moment too long. Derrick came out on top. He pinned her wrists above her head, his legs trapping hers, and leered over her, his smile wide and mocking.

"Don't fight me, baby," he said. "You can't win."

"Get off!" Sarah shouted again and struggled against him. Derrick leaned down and caught her mouth in a kiss, his tongue hot and prying. Never had Sarah loathed someone so much. She bit him as hard as she could. Derrick screeched, a chilling, high noise, and pulled back, clutching at his lips. A pungent, dank taste filled Sarah's mouth and not the coppery flavor she was expecting. In her shock, Sarah spat it out on the paleness of the carpet. It was a thick dark substance, blue-tinted and congealed, not the red liquidity of fresh bleeding.

"Oh my God," Sarah said faintly and touched her mouth before spitting again.

Derrick was breathing shallow, low breaths. He stood slowly and wiped his mouth, the darkness of his blood smearing across his pale cheek.

"You're not human," she whispered in horror.

Derrick shook his head and licked the corner of his mouth, "Mmm."

Sarah's mind knew immediately that it would be flight, not fight, in this situation. She backed away on her hands, scrambling to stand. Derrick laughed and jumped for her, but Sarah was quicker. As fast as she could, she grabbed the only surviving lamp and held it aloft, a weapon. When Derrick sprang, she brought it down over his head. The screech was louder this time, pitched high and keening in his throat. Sarah covered her ears as Derrick's hands flew to his face. He was blocking the door, but there were two windows covered by blinds in the back of the motel room. Sarah ran from the reeling creature and began pulling down the drawstring contraptions.

"Come on, come on, come on," Sarah said frantically, pulling at the insufferable blinds. They broke free and clattered to the floor to reveal the window. Sarah's heart fell. While she could open it, there was a layer of screen to keep her from getting out, and beyond that, decorative bars in a circular pattern.

"Are you kidding me?" she moaned.

An inhuman snarl made Sarah's attention whip around to the Derrick-creature that was reeling beside the door. His skin had begun to bubble, as if water were boiling beneath its surface. It faded from his body in a wisp of flesh-colored cloud that floated for a moment and dissipated into thin air. His clothing fell around him in a pile. Whatever stood before her now was not the man who Sarah had come to love over the last few years. _Maybe it is and you were too blind to see it, _Sarah thought, her stomach churning.

It was as Jareth had described it, a living shadow, formed from dense dark smoke. The shoulders were high and crooked, the frame whip thin and wiry, everything blurred and jumping about its body in wisps. The creature was the stuff of nightmares, made of swirling darkness with no discernible features except for a pair of blank white eyes lacking both iris and pupil, and a mouth of sharp teeth when it smiled widely at her. Sarah screamed at the sight of its wicked grin.

"What's wrong Sarah?" it asked. The creature no longer had the voice of Derrick Grant. It was a voice that held no distinguishable substance or tone, a shadow of a voice. "You don't like the way I look anymore?"

Sarah made a break for it, running for the door. She was in way over her head. The Derrick-monster laughed, hollow and horrible, and reached for her. Sarah could see the arm of the creature reforming into a hand as it shot out, Derrick's hand. Yes, she was not mistaken; there were the twin moles on his right index knuckle.

"Stop it!" she screamed and thrashed wildly as his hand closed around her throat, her eyes closed and waiting for the end as her open palm made contact with its shadowy form. Behind her closed eyes, the world exploded in white light. The changeling screeched its highest, loudest scream yet as she fell into the ruins of the motel lamp, a shard of glass slicing a line in the corner of her mouth when her cheek hit the carpet. Sarah kept her eyes clenched shut as the world continued to burn, a light so hot it hurt her eyes behind their lids. As quickly as it had begun, it stopped.

Sarah's eyes fluttered and met darkness, her entire body ached. For a moment, she felt some relief when she realized that Derrick was gone.

"Sarah," someone called to her from far away.

Sarah moaned and touched the corner of her mouth where the glass had sliced her. When she pulled her hand away she saw her own blood, red and thin, mixed with the changelings. She stared at it on the tips of her fingers for a moment in fascination. Her vision was fading in spots, great black holes on the surface of sight.

"Sarah," the voice said again, low, and accented. Above her, she could see a blurred vision of pale hair. Warmth spread within her, calming her. Sarah's mind felt sluggish and fuzzy, but she recognized that voice through the haze. The Goblin King knelt beside her and gathered her up into his arms. Sarah gasped in pain as she felt herself lifted from the floor. A dull, dead ache spreading throughout her body. She struggled a moment against Jareth's hold, before relaxing, unable to fight anymore. Everything hurt.

"What's happening?" she asked, nausea making her dizzy. Sarah shut her eyes and shook. He tightened his hold on her and Sarah felt a curious sensation, like everything around her was moving terribly fast while they stood still.

The Goblin King lowered her to the ground and she staggered against him. He touched the corner of her mouth with a gloved hand and studied the mix of human and changeling blood on his fingertips. "You're being poisoned," he murmured.

"What are you going to do?" she asked in a ragged whisper, each syllable an effort.

Just as Sarah lost all consciousness, he swept her back up, leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I'm taking you home."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I know that one was a long chapter, but I couldn't find a better place to split it. Sadly it was lacking in Jareth, but don't worry, there will be much more of him coming up! Thanks to all those who have read so far. Please read and review.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Labyrinth. It is the property of Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

**Author's Note: **Just a quick note about this chapter. Derrick's last name has changed, it has been changed in previous chapters as well. Sorry if this causes any sort of confusion. I want to give a quick shout out to **Honoria Granger** and **Kaytori**. Thanks so much to both of you for reviewing every chapter so far! I always enjoy reading your thoughts, opinions, and concerns about the story. To all of those who reviewed, followed, or made a favorite of the last chapter, thank you for making me a very happy author!

"Awake"

Darkness. Sarah waded through the thick of it as if trapped beneath the surface of the sea. Each step was a struggle, each breath hurt her chest, but somewhere deep down she knew she needed to go on. She had to keep moving forward, to find a way out of this eternal night. _Please Sarah, _a whisper floated across her mind, _hold on._

"I can't," she replied. Her voice echoed around her, deafening in the silence.

She continued to struggle forward, the air was as thick and sluggish has water. A pinpoint of light obscured her vision, floating in the distance, the only discernible object she could see. She needed to get to it. The light danced before her eyes, darting about in an enticing pattern.

"So pretty…" Sarah whispered at the diamond-bright sparkle in her vision. _So beautiful_. She leapt forward, laughing a little as the light darted out of reach. "Wait!"

She bounced forth as if she was a child again and her playful prey leapt away. Sarah could feel something emulating from the small orb, a sort of pull. _Sarah, please. _Now Sarah knew that she couldn't stop following. She trailed behind it in a dance, reaching and missing, almost brushing it with her fingertips only for it to dart away.

"Come back!" Sarah called, her voice causing a cacophony of echoes in the empty space. _Come back, Sarah_. She struggled to breathe and continued forth, moving slower each time. The air was trapping her, she struggled against it, but sticky tendrils of darkness clung to her and forced her to stay.

"No…" she whispered. _Breathe for me, love. Breathe, Sarah._

There was something warm and wet in the corner of her mouth. Sarah struggled once again and tore from the hold of the darkness, leaping in long, dreamlike bounds after the twinkling light. With an almighty lunge, Sarah's fingers brushed the glimmer, but did not catch it. She began to fall back to earth smoothly, but something was wrong. Instead of hitting the buoyant surface that had been her ground, she fell.

"Please," she whispered, too weak to fight as the gluey tendrils of night wrapped around her once more, aiding her in her fall and pulling her forever downward. "Let me go."

_Mine, _a hoarse, hollow voice whispered harshly. Its sharp tone jutted through her thoughts like the sharpest glass. The light she had followed was gone, snuffed out, and Sarah was once again surrounded by darkness. Those snaking tendrils wrapped around her lovingly, caressing her as they ran across her body. _Don't fight me, little girl, _the voice scolded, its loathing undeniable, _give in_. Sarah struggled with all her might, only to be pulled deeper and deeper into the earth.

"Stop," she moaned. "Don't!"

"Ah, good, you're awake."

Sarah opened her eyes in a single blink and stared at the strange surroundings that swam before her. She was in some sort of cavern, three walls of it were rock and one was blackness leading up to the surface world. She lay on her back and was wrapped in warm blankets made from what felt like wool. The flickering light from a small fire set up just a few feet away illuminated the odd rock formations on the walls. Dull crystals, as if dirty on the inside, clung to the darker and even dimmer rock of the underground hideout on every surface.

"What's wrong with the rocks?" Sarah asked, her voice was hoarse, "They look dead. They're different than I…"

Different than she remembered. The memory of rocks that glimmered as if painted in glitter struck her cold. She was in the Underground and Derrick had—

Sarah felt hot tears sting her eyes as the events in the motel came rushing back to her. Her hands immediately flew from the confines of the blanket to cover her face as she struggled to sit up. Sarah gave up as dizziness overcame her. She felt faint, famished, and as exhausted as if she had run for miles. A fine sheen of sweat covered her forehead, her body shook, and she was sure she had a fever. A quick glance beneath the blankets told her she was still wearing the black Nirvana shirt and patterned shorts from the motel.

"Don't tax yourself."

Sarah looked about frantically for the source of the voice, her eyes wild in the half-light. There he was, lounging against the wall of the cave, his eyes far away as if engaged in strangely burdensome daydream. Her eyes danced up and down his lean frame, taking in the leather of his dark jacket, the black shirt, grey pants, and the supple looking material of his boots. He was dressed for hiding, running, and fighting. Sarah shivered beneath the layers of blankets and cloak.

"Evening, Sarah," Jareth said, his gaze finally falling on her. The expression he granted her was distant, empty. "You've looked better."

Sarah closed her eyes and felt a few lone, hot tears escape, trailing down her skin. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, her heartbeat loud in her ears as even that simple motion took effort. Though her headache was something close to agony, the pain that had plagued her body after her blood mixed with the changelings had faded to a dim throbbing.

"You came back for me," Sarah whispered, her mind still reeling. It was not a tearful statement, nor a particularly grateful sounding one, merely an observation that was more conversational than she had intended. "Why?"

Jareth walked to the opposite end of the cave to begin rummaging through a worn leather bag. He pulled out a small corked flagon and a single hunk of bread wrapped in cloth. Both he dropped unceremoniously in her lap.

"You need to eat," he said and retreated back to the wall of the cave, leaning against it as he watched her.

Sarah sat up as best she could, wrapping the blanket firmly around her shoulders as she did so, and took a drink from the cask. She felt her hands trembling with the effort. Water, plain, sweet, and necessary, flowed down her throat. She hadn't realized how thirsty she was until she was drinking it down. She tore off a chunk of the bread next, chewing slowly. Sarah finished and swayed slightly. Jareth walked over, as if completely in his element, and helped her to lie back down.

"Thank you," she said, speaking easier now that her throat was not dry.

Jareth nodded, his eye contact with her was fleeting. He only remained a moment before retrieving the empty cask and crumb filled cloth and tucked them back in the bag for safekeeping.

"How long have I been here?" Sarah asked, rubbing her eyes and settling back down in the warmth of the blankets.

"It's been almost a day since we arrived," he replied. "You're still very weak."

Sarah touched the corner of her mouth, only a fine line met her fingertips. She didn't think it would scar. "Jareth, where are we, exactly? I mean, what's—"

"Go back to sleep, Sarah, you'll need it," he said quietly, his eyes glued to the fire.

She started and studied him for a moment. He was unreadable, his expression reflecting nothing, betraying no thought or emotion.

"Jareth," Sarah said softly, her resolve fading as sleep beckoned. "Talk to me. Please, tell me where I am."

Jareth didn't answer. He didn't even look at her.

"You require your rest," he said, this time his eyes met hers and she took in what she saw there. Pain, undeniable and fresh, burned within him. That kind of raw emotion, within Jareth of all people, was a sobering thing. There would be time for questions later.

Sarah turned on her side to face the flames. She could see him through the blaze, his image distorted by the heat.

"Jareth?"

He sighed and turned toward her. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to know…" she said, exhaustion overtaking her. "How did you know where to find me?"

Her voice was just the shadow of a whisper, fading quickly as sleep found her.

"All in good time, Sarah," he whispered as her eyes closed once more.

* * *

Blinding bright sunlight bore down on Sarah as she made her way through the crowd. She squinted against the glare and tried to appear casual as possible, shouldering the duffel bag containing the last of her belongings that hadn't made it in on moving day. Her first day of college, the taste of freedom she'd dreamed of for so long, had finally arrived.

"Sarah!"

A small, short girl with wildly curling auburn hair sprinted over, her backpack bouncing a foot with every step. Homemade bracelets of braids and beads jingled at her wrists.

"Hey!" Sarah shouted and met the girl in a hug. "Iris! Oh, I haven't seen you since graduation! How have you been?"

"Absolutely fantastic, peaches," Iris said with a wink, applying chap-stick as she spoke. "I got the work-study with Professor Burns in the theater department as a techie. He's like a thousand years old and you can get away with anything, this college thing is going to be a snap."

"I wish I felt as confident as you," Sarah said, readjusting her heavy bag once more and walking with Iris in the direction of the dorm rooms. "I'm completely terrified."

"Don't worry about it, Sarah-bear," Iris replied with a nudge. "You'll be fine. Just give it a week and I bet you'll fit right in."

"I don't know..."

"You will, now relax," Iris scolded. Her face brightened as she realized they were headed for the same building. "Hey, are you in Henley Hall?"

"Yeah," Sarah said, her anxiety ebbing away. "You?"

"Hell yes I am. Oh, thank God you're going to be there. I thought I was all alone with no one I knew," Iris said, her excitement obvious. Her gaze danced over to a group of boys standing beneath an arch by the library. "Speaking of people we know, check it out. Is that Tyler?"

Momentarily, Sarah thought it might be someone else, anyone else, standing in that small group of freshmen in ratty band shirts and torn jeans. No, there was no mistaking that wispy blond hair, spiked and treated to emulate the glory days of British punk. Sarah groaned and began to turn away, but Iris stopped her.

"Come on, face your fears," her friend urged, trying to push Sarah in the direction of her ex-boyfriend.

"No, Iris, I can't!" Sarah said, wrestling free. "Please."

"Why not? Show him how stupid he is," Iris prompted, trying to push again, but Sarah wriggled free.

"No, Iris," Sarah said.

Iris stopped, looking put out. She pulled a Dum-Dum lollipop from her pocket, sticky from the midday heat, and unwrapped it. "Come on, Sarah, he's moved on. Show him how you don't need him anymore."

Sarah shot a quick glare at Tyler and his friends, particularly the waif-like girl with candy apple red hair who sauntered over and gave him a quick kiss.

"But I haven't moved on," Sarah whispered. "I wish I could, you know what he did, but..."

Iris released her candy from her mouth with an audible pop. She pointed it in time with her words as she said, "You know what you need, Sarah? A new honey, a rebound guy. How about him?"

Sarah whipped around to see a dark-haired boy on a bench beneath the shade of a willow. He was the archetypal brooding college misfit, hair hanging in his eyes, writing in a notebook with leisure that indicated he took pleasure in whatever he penned.

"I don't know if he's my type, Iris," Sarah said. "I mean he's-"

"Not a bleach blond rock star wannabe who plays crappy covers of the Crüe?" Iris prompted.

"No-"

"Or a Johnny Rotten worshipper who cheats on you after you guys finally, well _you know_...?"

"Yes, Iris, I know," Sarah said, her stomach twisting in familiar pain. She wanted Tyler to see her happy, to see how little he meant in the scheme of things, even if he had been her first. Vengeance dating was looking more and more appealing as she watched him laughing beneath that arch with Vivian. "I don't even know that guy's name."

"Derrick Grant," Iris responded automatically. Sarah gave her an incredulous look.

"What?" Iris said with a grin. "I did some research on moving day. You gotta know who's who around here, ducky."

"I'll take your word for it," Sarah responded with a smile. "Okay, I'll go talk to him, but just to see Tyler squirm."

"Yes!" Iris said, dancing a little jig in delight. "I just love this."

"How's my hair?" Sarah asked.

"It's a little..." Iris said, tilting her head to study her flyaway strands.

"Fix it, fix it!" Sarah said.

"Stand still," Iris said, holding her candy between her teeth and expertly tousling Sarah's travel-worn hair, deflating the mess with careful fingers. "There, now, go get him, baby. Make that weasel pay."

Sarah could feel Tyler's dark eyes watching her as she ventured beneath the willow tree. She almost glanced back, but held her ground.

"Hi, what are you writing?" she asked, approaching the boy before her.

"Poem," he answered, not looking up until he finished whatever he had been scribbling. When he was done, he stood and extended his hand. "Derrick Grant."

"Sarah Williams," Sarah replied.

Derrick paused to fumble in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and lighter. He lit up, took a drag, and offered her the pack. "Want one?"

"No thanks. I don't smoke," Sarah said. There was an awkward pause as he tucked the pack back in his jacket. "So, you write poetry. Are you an English major, creative writing, maybe?"

Derrick took another long drag and shook his head. "Art major, you should've seen my dad when I told him. I swear he was this close to exploding."

"Why was he so mad?"

"Oh, he wanted me to go into business, that's what he did, that's what my grandfather did, but I don't give a shit, I want to create something more than money in a rich guy's pocket," he explained.

"Wow, that's deep," Sarah mused.

"Thanks," Derrick said, flicking a bit of ash into the grass.

"Sarah!" Iris called in excitement, gesturing to the vacated section of lawn where Tyler had been a moment before.

"See you around?" Sarah asked tentatively.

"See you."

Inky tendrils of shadow wrapped the world in a tentacle grip. The willow swirled away into night-like blackness. Sarah needed to run, she had a purpose to fulfill, something important and vital. Without her, the world would come crashing down. She burst forward, legs working furiously as she ran through the darkness. Her run slowed into a walk as she entered her college library, arms full of heavy tomes.

"Sarah!" someone called from behind her as she struggled with her pile of books. "Hey, Sarah, wait up!"

She stopped mid step on her way out of the library and turned. A dark-haired boy ran forward to catch up with her and waved.

"Need some help?" he asked, flashing her a white smile.

"Sure, thanks," Sarah said, handing over a few of the books in her arms.

The boy took them and continued walking with her out into the daylight. He took a cautious step forward into sunlight and grinned at her again.

"You probably don't remember me from last year," he said. "I'm Derrick, Derrick Grant."

Sarah thought for a moment and remembered the solitary student who could often be found sitting beneath the willows near Henley Hall, lost in his thoughts.

"Oh yeah, I remember you. I didn't recognize you at first," she said, noting his newly cut hair and fashionable clothing. "You seem to remember me, though."

"Well, yeah," he admitted with a smile that hinted he more than simply remembered her, he wanted to know her.

Sarah returned the smile but hoped this wasn't going where she thought it was. Derrick continued to walk with her and they approached a cluster of tables where her boyfriend Nick and friends Iris, Val, and Michael sat.

"I've seen you around," he said, breaking the momentary silence. "You're studying Theater, right?"

"Nope," she said. "I switched my major."

"How come?" he asked.

"We studied a lot of plays in one of my classes. Shakespeare, Ibsen, Williams, Miller, Wilde…" she explained. "I went from wanting to act out the words to wanting to write them and enrolled in a course. After I took that, I decided to try writing short stories and fell in love with it. So I've swapped out Theater for Creative Writing."

"I know what you mean. I've changed mine this year too," he said.

"Really?" Sarah felt stunned that the boy who had spoken with such conviction about art could have possibly chosen anything else. "What to?"

"Business," he said.

* * *

Sarah awoke with a gasp and curled into a ball beneath the blankets. _He was so different that first day, _she thought, _how could I have missed the changes he went through? _Shame overcame her for falling for the changelings lies, for not leaving with Jareth when she should have, for flirting with Derrick that first day to hurt her cheating ex-boyfriend. Maybe if she hadn't expressed interest, the real Derrick Grant would never have died.

_Oh God, his parents, _Sarah thought, remembering John and Maggie Grant. They had never wanted the rebellious son they'd had and the changeling went out of his way to make their dream come true. She had always thought they were poking fun at perfect, businessman Derrick, exaggerating his juvenile delinquency when they spoke of how proud they were of what he had made of himself. Without him around influencing her, Sarah could see the truth.

Sarah shook beneath the wool, her eyes tightly shut against the guilt. Her father had been right. She had been blind to the way Derrick treated her, the changeling trying to emulate the son that a jilted father had always wanted. _But why me?_ Sarah thought through the feverish haze. _Why invade my life? Why trick me into loving you?_

Someone knelt beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. _He thinks I'm still asleep, _Sarah thought. Jareth had barely looked at her in the few moments of wakefulness she had between dreams. He had saved her, but clearly he hadn't forgiven her. Sarah kept her eyes clenched shut, hoping that would be enough to make him stay. She needed comfort.

Her wish was granted as he pulled her hair from her face and over her shoulder, gently stroking the hollow of her temple, down her cheek to touch hot tears. Sarah caught his gloved hand when it rested once more on her shoulder and held it. He stiffened and started to pull away. Sarah shook her head and held tighter.

"Please," she whispered, ashamed that she had resorted to begging and unable to look at him. "Don't leave me alone."

Jareth sighed and sat. He was making a show with his noise of protest, telling her nonverbally how little he wanted to be with her. At the moment, Sarah didn't care how much it hurt.

She rolled to face him, still holding tight to his hand. She released him the moment she was sure he wouldn't leave. His palm rested against her cheek, soft leather against skin. Sarah reached up and held it there, entwining her fingers with his. With his free hand, he gently caressed her forehead.

"Your fever's breaking," he whispered. Was that relief in his voice?

Sarah rolled back, fingers still interlaced with his. She caught his hand between both of hers and held tight. Sarah pressed his gloved palm to her chest and held it there as if it were a comfort object, her thumbs gently caressing the exposed skin of his wrist. Jareth inhaled sharply and drew back. Sarah cringed when he did so and felt dizziness overcome her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, finally opening her eyes to meet his.

She had expected disgust, annoyance, and perhaps a pinch of condescending sarcasm. The face that Sarah met with held only shock. Jareth cradled the wrist of the hand she had held as if he had been burned, studying her with wide eyes. He shook it off a moment later, that mask sliding back into place.

"Maybe I was wrong," he said and stood. "You need more rest."

"Jareth," Sarah protested, her head aching terribly. "Don't go."

"Please, Sarah," he began and shook his head. "I'm going to bring you more food."

Sarah cursed herself for being so bold when he clearly wanted her to leave him be. She could hear him rummaging through that pack of his, but food was the last thing on her mind. He returned in a moment with an apple in hand and more water.

"Here, eat this," he said, crouching beside her and offering the fruit.

Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head once. "No."

"Sarah," he said, clearly exasperated, "eat."

"No," Sarah repeated, biting her lower lip. Her arms formed a protective cage around her body. Jareth ignored this and wrapped an arm beneath her to pull her into a sitting position, resting against his chest. Sarah's muscles ached from the unexpected motion and she stiffened in his arms.

"What are you doing?"

Jareth had her in his lap, an arm around her back, holding her there and holding the apple. With his free arm, he pulled a small knife from a pocket within his leather jacket. Without releasing his hold, he sliced into the fruit and cut out a chunk.

"Sarah, please," he whispered, holding the apple slice to her lips.

She met his eyes and sighed, opening her mouth to receive it. Once she had finished the small piece, Jareth cut another. He moved to feed her once more, but Sarah stopped him with a gentle touch.

"I'll do it," Sarah said and took the apple from him.

Jareth nodded but made no motion to remove her from his lap. "Wait," he said.

His arm snaked from around her back to pull off the opposite glove. Sarah was mesmerized by the sight of his long pale hand in the firelight. Gently, he caressed her forehead, the curve of her cheek, and rested his fingers beneath her ear. Sarah felt her skin erupt in a pleasant shiver at his touch. Every place that his fingertips rested felt rejuvenated, warm and wonderful. A sharp, sweet ache rose in Sarah's chest involuntarily at the feel of his bare skin on hers. Jareth slid her from his lap, back onto her pile of blankets, and replaced the glove.

"Your fever's gone," he said as Sarah bit into the apple.

"Really?" she asked once she'd swallowed. "I feel terrible."

"Ah, yes, terrible. But not feverish," he replied.

"Jareth…" she began. "Where are we?"

"We're just outside a mining town that used to be occupied by the hobs," Jareth said. He noticed her confused glance and said, "Hobgoblins, they used to mine the crystals here, at the very edge of the Goblin Kingdom. The gems they mined were beautiful once, though you wouldn't know it now. That was before the changelings."

Sarah stared at the dusty looking gems that clung to the walls of the cavern and noticed an abandoned set of miniature tracks with a lone cart still attached. A small pickaxe, which could have been for a child, leaned against the opposite wall. Sarah took another bite of the apple and was silent for a moment.

"How did you know I was at the motel?" she asked point-blank.

Jareth's eyes widened, the difference in their pupils illuminated by the firelight.

"I did not return to the Underground immediately," he said. "I needed to prepare in order to take back my kingdom."

Sarah raised an eyebrow as she ate as if to say, _go on. _

Jareth retrieved the leather bag from where it sat against the opposite cavern wall. It was leather, worn and old, the kind of bag that a theologian at Oxford might carry in a fuzzy black and white photo from the glory days of intellectualism. Jareth reached within and pulled out a small compact mirror, a box of matches, a pocketknife and a number of other things that seemed to range from useful and useless, including a magnifying glass and a child's jump-rope, along with several of his crystals.

"Went shoplifting?" Sarah asked, twirling the apple-core between her hands.

Jareth snorted and replaced the items. "Hardly, I left those clerks a king's ransom in gold on the shelf."

"Not sure you brought the right currency," Sarah mused. "Why do you have so many crystals here, can't you just make them appear?"

"It's not that simple, Sarah," Jareth said. "The changelings feed off of magical energy in particular. They can sense it as well as you can feel the warmth of that fire before you. I must not leave a trail or they will be on my scent immediately."

"So you gathered supplies to prepare," Sarah said, tossing the core into the fire. "What else did you do?"

"I…" he trailed off and said stiffly, "I observed."

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, remembering the owl in the rainstorm. "Jareth, were you watching me?"

"No," he replied automatically. "I checked in on you on one occasion. You were in a car, looking less than enthused to be there, and I watched you pull into that horrid little hovel."

"But you knew that I needed help," Sarah said, furrowing her brow.

"I heard you screaming," he whispered. Firelight made the sharp angles of Jareth's face feral. Sarah shivered as she realized that he was. She was seeing Jareth, the untamed and powerful creature, the Goblin King, not Jareth, the man who practically force-fed her apples because he wanted her to be well again. The stark difference was almost chilling.

"Do you know what happened to Der—," Sarah stopped herself and let out a shaky breath. "Do you know what happened to the changeling?"

Jareth shook his head. "No, I was too late to see what became of him. However, I think that it's safe to assume that he is no more."

Sarah frowned. As she opened her mouth to speak, the cut on her lip stretched painfully. Her fingers flew to her lips and touched it gingerly.

"I was poisoned," she said.

"Yes," Jareth replied. "The blood of the changelings is deadly when mixed with another's."

"You saved me," Sarah breathed.

"As best I could," Jareth answered.

"How?" she asked. "I was dying, I could feel it."

"You know, you really do ask far too many questions," Jareth replied.

She ignored his comment and stared him down. "Did you use magic?"

"I used a single crystal to keep your heartbeat going and to purge your body of the rest of the creature's blood after I'd sucked most of the poison from that cut. It attracted a single changeling and I destroyed it," he said, casual as discussing the weather.

"Thank you," she said, but her mind was still wrapped in his words. She touched the healing cut once again. "Did you say that you sucked…?"

Jareth seemed oblivious to why she was so flustered. "Yes, Sarah. Well, twice I suppose, seeing as the crystal expunged it from your body through the open wound."

"Yuck," Sarah said and smiled at him, earning a rare glimpse of his own pointed grin. "I only have one more question."

"Somehow I don't believe you," Jareth said, but settled down near her beside the fire.

"What happened in that motel was…confusing, and not just the 'my fiancé's a monster' part of it either," she said and took in a shaky breath. "Something appeared there, a white light. Do you know what that was?"

"No," Jareth answered without hesitation.

"Do you know what it might have been?" Sarah asked.

"I thought there was only one more question, Sarah," he said and stood.

"Jareth, I just want to know—"

"Sarah," he interrupted and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have my suspicions, let's leave it at that."

Sarah sighed and lay back. "Why won't you talk to me?"

"Because I have very little to say," Jareth replied. Sarah thought that would be the end of it and felt her face fall. He glanced at her and sighed. "I have a contact, someone who has not been taken. He lives very near. Rest now, Sarah. When you wake, we're going to pay a visit to Bard."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Labyrinth and doubt I ever will. It is the property of Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

"Forward"

Sarah woke to the sound of water sloshing. She mumbled incoherent nothings in her sleep and rubbed her eyes. To her delight, her arms made no protest to the motion and, now that she was moving, Sarah realized that her entire aching body was feeling no worse than just a hint of stiffness from sleeping on the floor of the mine. Sarah rubbed her temples and breathed deeply. Her headache was gone too. This deep down in the cavern, there was no way to know what time it was, but Sarah felt instinctively that it was very early in the morning, perhaps before the first birdsong. She stretched her arms wide, pleased that the movement caused no pain, and sat to face the fire.

"You're awake," she said, surprised to see Jareth standing there over a sturdy looking wooden bucket. Steam curled up from the bucket's contents and Sarah realized that must have been the splash of water she heard upon waking. Something in his face made her stop and stare. "Are you all right?"

"I'm perfectly fine, princess," he answered, fiddling with a loose thread on his silky white shirt. Sarah didn't quite believe him. Violet circles kissed the skin beneath his eyes and his face seemed even more sharply defined than usual, all planes, angles, and shadows_. He must be feeling awful if he's back to calling me pet names, _Sarah thought as she looked him over in concern.

"Sarah," Jareth said and toed the bucket with a booted foot, "I heated some water, you can use it to bathe."

Sarah gave him a grateful smile, "What about you?"

"You need it more than I do," Jareth said, his voice laden with exhaustion.

With his fatigued tone, Sarah couldn't tell if he was insulting her or not. She shifted uncomfortably. "Thank you," she finally said. Jareth didn't move, just continued to watch her.

"Oh, could you…" Sarah trailed off, and gestured to the bucket. Jareth's eyes widened a fraction and he tilted his head. Sarah cleared her throat. "Could I have a moment…alone…please?"

"Yes, yes, of course," he replied with a shake of his head. It seemed to Sarah that he was speaking more to himself than to her. Jareth turned and walked toward the mouth of the mine. "I'll give you some privacy," he said and disappeared into the darkness of the cavern mouth.

Sarah walked to the bucket and glanced within. A white cloth coiled in the steaming water and sweetly scented bubbles of some sort of soap floated at the top. She stripped off her t-shirt, shorts, and panties and left them to the side. _I need clean clothes, _she thought and wrinkled her nose at the idea of wearing the pajamas a minute more.

She had expected the bath, if you could call it that, to feel primitive and awkward. However, the soap-like substance in the water scrubbed away dirt very well with a gentle lather and left her skin smelling like the fragrance of desert rain. Although she longed for indoor plumbing, Sarah had to admit it felt wonderful to be clean again. Jareth had left a pair of cheap women's house slippers beside the bucket, another Aboveground souvenir. Sarah was both touched and confused by the gesture, unsure of what to think. _How can he be so kind one moment and so distant the next? _Sarah thought. Things had been so much simpler when she was fifteen. He was an adversary, an opponent to overcome. Sarah wasn't sure which role in her life Jareth occupied now or which one she wanted him to fill.

She had just wiggled back into her clothes when she heard the telltale crunch of Jareth's boots approaching on the cavern floor.

"Thanks again. I feel much better," Sarah said as he came nearer, combing fingers through her damp hair.

"I'm glad to hear it," Jareth said. Something in his voice made it impossible not to believe him.

Sarah watched as his eyes roamed over her thin t-shirt clinging to every curve of wet skin and glanced away in an instant. Sarah felt warmth radiating on her cheeks after that look and crossed her arms over her chest. He went to the leather pack against the wall and returned with water and traveler's bread. They sat to eat.

"You know what's strange?" Sarah said, tearing off a chunk of bread.

"What, precious?" Jareth asked. He leaned back on one hand to better study her. Although he was still a bit too quiet, a bit too withdrawn, he seemed pleased that she was feeling better, Sarah could tell. The realization made her inner teenage self preen and prance in victory. _Quiet, you, _Sarah thought, her adult mind more bewildered than anything else. Her life had changed so drastically and in such a short amount of time. Thinking about it made her head swim and her heart clench.

Sarah took a deep breath as painful memories stabbed at her. "Ever since Derrick—that thing—came into my life, I've been alone. I lost all my friends, I never saw my family, and somehow, he convinced me that it was what I wanted." She trailed off and stared into the fire. Jareth seemed to understand that she wasn't finished. She could feel his intense gaze lingering on her, waiting for her to continue. "It's funny how we used to be enemies, now you're my only friend."

Jareth stopped reclining and leaned toward her. "Are we, though?"

_He's making fun of me, _her inner voice said. Sarah dared to look at him. He didn't look vicious, or bored, or sarcastic. Jareth simply seemed to be questioning her statement, but how she couldn't tell. Did he think they might be less than friends? _Maybe, possibly, more…_

"Are we friends?" Sarah repeated. She stared intently at his fatigued visage as he nodded, completely serious. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I think so, don't you?"

Jareth gave her a half-smile, frosty hair hanging in his eyes. He looked like heaven's most wayward angel in the dying light of the fire. "If that's what you think, then I suppose we are, love."

Sarah almost sighed aloud, as she was always in danger of doing when he looked at her like that. _Stupid, gorgeous, Goblin King, _she thought, flustered, _so distracting.._.

Jareth finished his last bite of traveler's bread and stood to replace his small flagon of water in the leather bag. Each movement he made screamed that he was as beyond exhausted.

"Jareth, are you sure you're all right?" Sarah asked as she wiped the crumbs from her hands. A thought struck her and made her go cold. "Oh no. It's your side, isn't it? Let me see, maybe I can…"

Jareth grinned, for what felt like the first time all day, and hiked up his shirt to show her the shiny pink of new scarring. Sarah was struck once again by his _otherness_.

"Healing like a charm," he said, lowering the hem once more. "I have you to thank for that."

Sarah furrowed her brow and stared intently. "You still have some bruises."

"They'll fade in time," Jareth said. He paused for a moment. "You needn't be so concerned about my physical well-being. It's nothing a little sleep won't cure."

"You didn't sleep," she said, a statement. Sarah frowned and almost insisted that he lie down immediately. "You shouldn't have done that."

"You were ill. What if you needed me?" he replied.

She endeavored to move closer to him. His quick intake of breath did not escape her notice.

"That might be the most…" Sarah froze, trying to find the words to describe how much it meant to hear him say that. He was still so distant from her.

She made the mistake of reaching for him. It was only for a moment and barely a twitch of her fingers in his direction, but he walked swiftly away from her touch. If a normal person had reacted that way, it would be called bolting. When Jareth did it, it seemed more like he was striding toward a far more interesting object than the person he had fled. Somehow his way hurt more.

He took the pack from the floor and returned to where Sarah was standing, close, but not too close.

"We need to pack up and get out of here," Jareth said, hiding his emotions as easily as drawing breath. "Bard lives close and we must get there before nightfall."

"So, who exactly is Bard? Why are we going to see him?" Sarah asked, deciding not to press him. She began folding the woolen blankets as Jareth haphazardly shoved their camp supplies within the leather pack.

"He is a very fierce warrior," Jareth said. "He served in my army for many years. He's going to give us lodging for a night and help us formulate a plan."

"Would I recognize him?" Sarah asked, smiling at the memory of all the soldiers, bumbling goblins that she and her friends had defeated with ease. They hadn't been much of a threat.

Jareth gave a short laugh. "No, I shouldn't think so. He left us long ago for a quiet life."

"He must still have some kind of fight in him if he was able to escape the changelings," Sarah said. "You did say that they struck out here first."

"Yes, I did, and yes, I'm sure he has."

Sarah took the bag from Jareth and was surprised to find that the blankets fit inside with ease. She wondered if it was enchanted. How else could it fit in thick blankets, their camp supplies, a dozen crystals, and the hodge-podge of items that Jareth had brought from the Aboveground? She found that apart from the handle, there were two straps that could be used to carry the bag like a backpack and slung it over her shoulders. It was light as air. _More magic, _she thought, smiling to herself.

"Ready?" she asked, anxious to leave the cave after so long in its darkness. The dusty, dead looking crystals clinging to the dull rock of the cavern walls gave her the creeps. There was something terribly _wrong _with them, something terminally tainted.

"Not quite," Jareth said. "There are some things that you should know first."

"Okay," Sarah said, a bit uneasy, sitting down beside the dying fire.

"Outside of this mine, right now, it is day. You may have noticed that the changelings have a distaste for light," he said, pulling a jacket of brown leather on over his shirt. "Unfortunately, that aversion is only in effect when they are in their true form. This gives us both an advantage and disadvantage."

Sarah sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "Jareth, will you do me a favor and tell me the bad stuff first?"

Jareth quirked a winged eyebrow. "Might I ask, why?"

"After everything I've been through over the past few days, I really just want to end one thing on a positive note," Sarah answered with a humorless laugh.

"I understand," he said quietly, poking at the dying fire with a small twig that had escaped its burn. "They will be able to fight us in broad daylight, wearing their false visage, with all the skill and power that their victim possessed."

"So let's say that a changeling consumed something that could, oh I don't know, breathe diseases and shoot daggers out of its eyes…" Sarah prompted.

"Such imagination," he said. The small grin on his lips did not escape Sarah's notice and she felt her heart lift. "But yes, the changeling would be able to imitate its powers almost exactly, perhaps a bit weaker."

"And the positives?" Sarah asked hopefully.

"If the changeling consumes a less desirable victim, one that comes with weaknesses, it is easily beaten. It could be forced to reveal its true self to stand a chance of living," Jareth said.

"And if it does that in sunlight?" Sarah asked.

"It's chances of surviving are very low," Jareth said with an impious, self-indulgent smile. It was easy to guess the thoughts going through his mind. He would destroy the changelings inch by inch if it was necessary to avenge the Labyrinth, and there was no doubt that he would enjoy doing so. Sarah was reminded again how otherworldly he was and shivered. His voice dropped to become more serious, "Sarah, be sure to have some matches on you."

"Why?" she asked, but felt around in the pack for them and pulled out a boxful and tossing it to him. He caught it and tucked it in his jacket.

"Fire is deadly to the beasts. Anything bright or light should work, the purer the better," Jareth explained.

"Purer?"

Jareth simply tilted his head and gave her a cryptic stare. "Yes."

_Fine, don't explain_, Sarah thought, shouldering the pack once more and standing. Jareth followed suit.

"We beat them with fire, light, warmth, pure pureness… this should be easy," she said, taking a few matches from him and tucking them into a small, heart-shaped pocket on the front of her flannel shorts.

Jareth shook his head in frustration. Sarah began to walk again, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Sarah, there's one more thing."

"What is it?" she asked, her words ringing in the silent cave. She felt so exposed in her thin shirt and shorts under his gaze, all too aware of how he kept sneaking small glances at her. It was too surreal. The fresh scar of Derrick's true nature flared in her chest when she considered her immense attraction to the Goblin King, making her head swim.

Jareth was very near, bordering on too close. Sarah could smell the scent of his skin and feel the warmth radiating from his body, sending her heartbeat careening away. It awakened memories the last few days, all the times he had flirted, teased, touched, and heck, even looked at her suggestively. During her first visit to the Underground, he had always stood so close, as if he had few to no notions of her personal boundaries, and when they danced, he had held her too tightly. It seemed to Sarah that those memories would remain just that, past. Worse still, was the intensity with which the thought dejected her. _I could never tell him, _Sarah thought, _not when I'm still not sure about how I feel. Yes, he's beautiful, but how much do you even know about him?_

"Sarah," Jareth said, but stopped. He seemed to realize that he was breaking whatever self-imposed restriction he had set for himself and backed up ever so slightly, as if trying to keep her from noticing. She did.

"No, don't. We've wasted too much time already," Sarah said, stepping away, hurt. If he couldn't look at her or speak to her without withdrawing, perhaps she should return the favor. _Don't be such a child, _she snapped to herself internally. Sarah ignored her own mental scolding and turned in the direction of the cave's exit.

To her shock, Jareth's hand closed around her upper arm. He pulled her to face him, jerking her against his chest and not dropping his grip. Sarah's heart beat a pagan rhythm within her chest as she realized just how close they really were, pressed tightly together, from chest to thighs, their breathing intermingling. His jacket was open and only two thin layers of fabric separated them. Jareth's heart beat with the same wild cadence as her own against her breast. Breathing together, beating together, for a moment they were one.

The dull crystals on the cavern walls seemed to come alive in that instant, emulating a blaze like white snow and bright stars. Sarah blinked at the sudden light and shielded her eyes. Jareth dropped her arm and jerked away from her, but the crystals no longer glowed. They reverted to their lifeless state, looking worn and ancient, with only faint firelight to allow vision.

"Jareth…what…?" Sarah could hardly speak in astonishment, her mouth opened and closed but she couldn't find her voice. She dug her fingers into her hair and shook her head, hysterical. "I don't understand this. I don't understand any of this. I'm in way over my head—"

Jareth stopped her with a gentle touch on her shoulder. His eyes were dark, his expression bordering on grave. "Sarah, you must listen to me. The danger we are facing is more real than anything you have ever experienced. If anything happens out there that you can't handle, I want you to run and I want you to hide. Don't speak to anyone, don't accept any help, because unless you cut their skin and see that they bleed red, you cannot trust them. Just hide, I will find you."

Sarah shivered involuntarily at his words, her hysteria still running high. "What the hell just happened? Why are you telling me these things?"

"So inquisitive," he said, running a hand through his hair. Jareth looked thoughtful, pondering. Finally, he spoke, "You saved my life, precious. I'm saving yours. Now come."

How had he taken charge, and so easily? Sarah followed him away from the muted light of the dying fire and was immediately swallowed by blackness. She groped forward in the dark exit and caught his upper arm. To her surprise, Jareth did not pull away. He found her hand and held securely.

Something that sang with yearning rose in her chest as he held her hand. She felt sixteen again, reliving that magnificent feeling of going boneless and shaky from the slightest touch. It was both frightening and exhilarating.

"Don't let go," Jareth breathed, tightening his hold on her. "These mines split further down the tunnel and go for miles into the earth."

"Do you know the way?" Sarah asked in a whisper, clutching at his upper arm with her free hand.

"Sarah, this is my kingdom. I know every pebble."

She believed him.

Sarah followed noiselessly as he led them forth in a mutual, comfortable silence. Even if he had spoken, Sarah was unsure if she could answer. She was too overcome with the swirling maelstrom of uncertainty brewing in her chest and the odd sensation of being blind with open eyes.

The darkness of the caverns went on for ages, somewhere nearby a stream gurgled, deep within the earth. Sarah wondered silently if that was where Jareth had found their water. They were getting closer to the surface and Sarah had to choke back a cry of relief as she saw the first rays of sunlight against the cavern's dusky walls. Jareth allowed her hand to slide from his grip as Sarah rushed forth into the sunlight.

She shielded her eyes from the brightness after so long in the dark. They adjusted slowly as she took in the sight of the wastelands. It was as Jareth had described it, nothing but brush and scrub. There were scatterings of thin trees and high grass, small cottages built of stone and wood dotted the distant countryside. Sarah's eyes were drawn eastward and she was surprised to see a lush forest on the edge of the horizon where the wasteland met its end. It seemed odd to see such life and vibrancy amid the barren landscape. To the west of them was the Labyrinth.

"Oh no…" Sarah said as she stared at it.

In the same way that she had sensed a taint of darkness on the crystals in the mine, she knew the Labyrinth was ailing. The stones that built it looked lackluster, crumbling, and it was obvious that their sparkle was gone, even at this distance. The castle, which had already been imposing, was now a monument of doom. It screamed the daunting, the impossible, the tallest tower skewering the sky. Each glimmer of hope had been drained from its form and Sarah could sense something insidious undulating out from within it. Every hint that it had once been held by magic—magic that was by no means benevolent, but mischievous at worst—had faded. If the changelings' leader was holding fort within…Sarah didn't want to consider storming what appeared to be such an impregnable fortress.

"Sarah?" Jareth asked, his voice rising slightly as she stumbled, her legs failing her. Her vision swam as Jareth repeated her name.

"It's wrong," she moaned and staggered against him. Jareth caught her and Sarah was shocked to feel that he was shaking.

"You can feel it too?" he asked. Sarah nodded against the crook of his shoulder. Her breath hitched as he rubbed a small circle of comfort against her back. "Breathe, Sarah."

Those words, so familiar. Sarah took a deep breath and then another, deep lungfuls. The scent of Jareth, of good, untainted magic filled her, and she felt her strength return. Sarah righted herself and took one step closer to the ruin of the castle. The alarm was wearing off and anger settling in its place. The sight of the Labyrinth, broken and stolen, left her fuming.

"We'll take it back," Sarah said, her voice harsh and trembling. "We've got to stop these things."

"We will," Jareth confirmed, staring darkly at the castle.

Sarah followed as Jareth walked through the expanse of dust and low, weathered plants, through a small, scrubby valley. The sun beat down heavily on her brow and more than once she found herself wiping away beads of sweat that gathered there. Dust kicked up with every step, the grime was in Sarah's slippers, in her hair, coating her skin. A sideways glance at Jareth told her that he was also getting dusted with a fine layer of dirt as they climbed uphill.

"There's the hob's village," Jareth said, holding out a hand to help her crest the low pike. "We're close."

The village, composed of wooden, broken-down homes, stood just before them. It seemed to be completely deserted. Sarah felt chilled as they walked to the edge of the small town. Wind whistled through the boards of the abandoned homes' frail structures, rattling the debris that lay around and the loose wood of their wrecked frames.

"This is creepy," Sarah whispered, glancing around at the wasted remains of the residences.

Jareth nodded, but remained silent as they walked through the town's center. Sarah was cold in the harsh sunlight as she stared around at the abandoned village. So many people must have lived there, hobs, Jareth had called them. Had they all been taken? Sarah stole a glance at Jareth and was surprised to see her inner thoughts playing out on his face, fresh pain. It felt almost intrusive to watch him.

Sarah stared at her slipper clad feet instead as they left the tiny village square and wandered into sandy fields dotted with cottages. These homes were just as beaten down and deserted as the ones in the village. Sarah dared to sneak a quick glance at Jareth as they trod through brittle scrub and high grass. She knew from the tilt of his head that he was listening intently for something, somehow it made her feel reassured. They found a dirt path and took it, winding through the flat landscape.

Jareth held out an arm before her, making her stop mid-step. Sarah tilted her head in confusion as he gestured to a lone cottage in the midst of a thatch of particularly long high grass. The cottage was even more broken down than the rest of them, half of it lay in complete ruin, boards forming a skeleton of the structure it once was. Sarah glanced down. A rectangle of gleaming white river stones surrounded the abandoned home.

She stepped forward to enter the limit of the yard. The moment her foot set just on the edge of the stone perimeter, Jareth breathed in sharply and jerked her back with a painful pull on her arm.

"Don't!" he said sharply in alarm, his fingers digging in her skin. "It's cursed."

"Thanks for that," Sarah said, eyeing the river rocks suspiciously. "But how do we get in?"

Jareth stood at the edge of the line and took out his small knife. He pulled off his glove and pressed the tip of it into his thumb. A bead of red blood appeared and Jareth squeezed it over the line. A few golden sparks burst forth from where the blood landed and shimmered in the dirt.

He took a confident step over the line and disappeared into nothing. Sarah balked and felt panic rising like wildfire in her chest. She was stuck on the outside, where the changelings were.

"Jareth!" Sarah hissed, trying to keep her voice calm. She jumped as Jareth's newly gloved, disembodied hand materialized over the line, holding out the cleaned knife to her.

Not wasting a single second of being on the dangerous side of the curse, Sarah took the knife and pricked her thumb, perhaps a little deeper than necessary, letting the garnet drop fall into the dirt. Star-bright sparks burst forth from the earth.

Sarah stepped forward over the row of rocks and straight into a warm body. The little man toppled backwards and stared up at her accusingly. He stood and dusted himself off with a grumble, adjusting his worn jerkin.

The small stranger only came up to her waist and at first Sarah thought he was a goblin. He certainly had their coloring and similar features. On a second glance, he seemed far too serious to be one of the mischievous little devils that Sarah had seen on her first visit and lacked the strange physical characteristics of horns or tusks. His skin was like leather, wrinkled from years of sun, wisps of white hair adorned his scalp and amber eyes glared from above a hooked, pointed nose. Despite his obvious old age, his skin clung to his body tightly over spindly arms and a large ribcage. Even with his small size and bony frame, Sarah felt terribly intimidated under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Bidbard, meet Sarah," Jareth said, clearly suppressing a laugh. "Sarah, this is Bard."

* * *

**Author's Note: **This chapter comes a bit later than I had planned (I usually try to update twice a week), so thanks for hanging in there for it. Thanks to all those who read and made this story a favorite, followed it, or left a review. I hope you enjoy Chapter 8, please read and review.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **To my great dismay, Labyrinth does not belong to me. It is the property of Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

"In Dreams"

Sarah was still reeling from the shock of Bard being so tiny and elderly as she and Jareth sat at his kitchen table. It was a nice kitchen, all hand-carved wood and shiny cookware hanging from the ceiling, but Sarah was too tense to truly admire the aesthetics or marvel at how the small wooden stools did not break beneath their weight. Jareth, in contrast, seemed perfectly content, leaning back casually in his chair and sipping a cup of tea before the crackling fire, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched Sarah's stunned expression_. I expected Bard to be someone more like Jareth, perhaps even of the same kind_, she thought. When he had spoken of a fierce warrior, she believed that the stranger would fit the description in every respect. Instead there was this little man in this little house.

The moment they had entered the barrier of the river rocks, the cottage appeared entirely different. It was no longer decimated and abandoned. It was almost like new, made of polished stone and wood. Bard's home was tiny, almost ridiculously so. Jareth hunched over as they walked in and Sarah's head brushed the low ceiling. The inside was just as lovely as the out with an arch engraved with fairies separated the living area from the kitchen and two doors, also carved, leading to what Sarah assumed must be bedrooms. Although it was small, she couldn't help but be enchanted by it.

Bard, however, was a different, less charming matter. Sarah was all too aware of this as he stirred the soup on the fire, shooting her distrustful glances over his shoulder.

"Jareth?" Sarah whispered under her breath. "What exactly is he?"

"He's a hobgoblin," Jareth replied in a hushed voice.

"He doesn't like me," Sarah said back, out of the corner of her mouth.

Jareth chuckled and she gave him a dark look. "Well, you did send him hurtling to the ground."

Sarah had to smile slightly at that. Bard hobbled over to the table and set down a tray laden with small pastries and the teakettle, still piping hot. Sarah gave him a grateful smile and was awarded a suspicious stare from the hobgoblin. Bard backed away carefully from her, as if he were afraid she could bite.

"Bard, might I ask why you keep giving such curious glances at my companion's apparel?" Jareth asked lightly, taking another sip of tea.

"I mean no disrespect, sir," Bard said gruffly, giving Sarah another quick once over. "But that's an odd symbol she wears. I thought she might be a witch, come to put a spell on me…"

Sarah almost laughed as she looked down at the smiley face with x's for eyes, but stopped herself and tried to look respectable. "I'm not a witch, Bard."

Bard raised his white eyebrows and looked to Jareth for confirmation.

"She isn't," he said, a pointed grin on his lips.

"Can't blame a hob for suspecting," Bard wheezed and sat on a third small stool before the table. "Never seen the likes of her around here before…"

"She's from the Above," Jareth explained.

"Really?" Bard said, now far more interested. He settled comfortably and took a long drink. "Why is she here?"

"She's here to help me take back the Labyrinth," Jareth replied, his voice as casual as speaking about the weather. "And you'll be helping me too, of course."

Bard's eyes widened. Sarah could almost see the hope there rise, fizzle, then die.

"Majesty, forgive me but…this place has been ravaged. I don't know if…" Bard trailed off.

"If? If what, old friend?" Jareth asked, studying the hobgoblin from across the table. Sarah had forgotten how intimidating Jareth could be when he wanted too, all steely gazes and sharp teeth. She shivered slightly as he stared Bard down.

Bard seemed more dejected than afraid and shook his head, wisps of hair fluttering. "I just don't know if it's possible."

"It has to be," Sarah spoke up, voice filled with desperate conviction.

Bard gave her a curious look and Jareth appeared vaguely stunned.

"Bard, help us," Sarah said and leaned forward. If this hobgoblin could be half as helpful as Jareth had said, Sarah knew that they couldn't do it without him. Her tone was desperate, her heart heavy as she asked, "Please?"

A curious look dawned on the hobgoblin's face, he stared at Sarah very hard, as if picking her apart visually and trying to find something within. Sarah continued to stare at Bard, confused, as the hob looked to Jareth. Deep realization seemed to wash over the little man and Sarah wished that she had thought to glance at Jareth, to see what on his face had made Bard look so awed. The hobgoblin shook his head in disbelief, but there was something akin to joy in his expression. Sarah found it all incredibly perplexing.

"I'll do it," Bard grunted and ran a hand over his eye so quickly that Sarah couldn't tell if it was reflexive or if, perhaps, he was brushing away a tear.

"You will?" Sarah asked, daring to feel hopeful.

Bard's expression was somber, almost reverently serious, as he answered, "I will."

* * *

_Sarah_…

Sarah was twirling, dancing wildly around a room in a haphazard and discordant ballet. The air around her had substance, a thick, cold mist. Her eyes were tightly shut, but she could feel the coolness of ground beneath her feet as she spun. Notes of the music clashed, harsher than nails on blackboard, sending chills up her spine, but she continued dancing to its dissonant tune.

_Mine._

Sarah twirled again, and again, and one final time before taking her bow, arms reaching toward heaven. She rose from her knees and her eyes fluttered open. Darkness was all around. It called to her, surging in a sinuous rhythm and beckoning. A pinpoint of light in the distance was all Sarah could truly see, the rest she seemed to feel. The blackness was seduction without the choice, harsh and merciless. Sarah's fingers reached to the bright orb of vision, a brilliant, unattainable goal floating in the distance.

_This is your world. _

That voice, that harsh, shrill voice. It both echoed for miles and closed in, gutted and filled. It was everything and nothing, and it had spoken in her ear. Sarah was certain she had heard it before…

Her light circled a final farewell and plunged her into total darkness.

"Hello?" Sarah called, spinning around for a glimmer of anything, straining to see in the shadows. She was rewarded. A pair of white eyes, devoid of iris and pupil, watched her with a predator's gleam.

Sarah tried to run, but found that she couldn't. Instead she bounded through the black fog, her world murky and her limbs sluggish as she struggled to get free. She slowed and stopped without warning, restrained. Fingers touched her, soft and hazy up and down her exposed arms and legs as she moved forth.

"Stop," Sarah whispered. "Please."

_Mine. Want to taste…_

"Stop!" Sarah insisted. She struck blindly and hit a solid body, but it was unlike any body she had ever touched. It was smoke made solid, or perhaps solid made mist. The feeling of it made Sarah's stomach churn as she touched it in sick fascination, both repulsed and enthralled by its indescribable texture.

"Did you miss me?" said a second voice in a soft whisper against her ear. _A shadow of a voice_. A tongue darted out to touch her cheek.

Sarah spun around and saw only blackness. "Where are you?"

White eyes opened just in front of her face and Sarah jerked away, but the changeling caught her and pulled her close.

"Don't run, you'll be late for the wedding," the monster rasped, his sharp nails digging into her hips, trapping her against him. Sarah shrieked, the sound of it reverberated around her. The changeling laughed. "What's the matter, Sarah? You don't like me touching you anymore?"

Sarah screamed again. "Let go!"

_Never, _the word crashed harshly in her ear, an internal symphony that made her head feel as if it were splitting. _Never, never, never. _A laugh, cold and chilling, bounced around within her skull.

_You are mine. _

Sarah gasped and sat up straight in her chair.

"So, we send the scouts, the quietest, stealthiest goblins only, Jareth!" Bard said.

"Oh those should be _easy_ to find," Jareth said with a haughty look. "My goblins are simply _renowned _for their ability to remain still and quiet…"

"We'll train them to do it, then. I mean it, these scouts must be quieter than the shadows themselves!" Bard insisted, pounding his fist on the counter. "If they're not, this will never work!"

"What won't work?" Sarah asked, her heart still pounding after her nightmare. She rubbed her temples and could feel Jareth's eyes on her.

"Oh, you're awake," Bard said, his excitement palpable. "You slept a few good hours, you did."

Sarah looked around Bard's kitchen. The sun had clearly set, the room was shuttered and lit only by firelight. It danced and jumped, reflecting off of the gleaming wood of the table and stools, and the multitude of brass pots and dried goods that hung from the ceiling.

"I guess that you two got started on planning," Sarah said, glancing to the map of the Labyrinth that was laid out on Bard's kitchen table and lined with ink, tracing paths. "What do you have so far?"

"My greatest plan to date, missy, that's what!" Bard said, impassioned. "I am a genius, my dear, a military genius."

"He's having delusions of grandeur," Jareth said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Don't you doubt me, majesty. Following this plan, we'll wipe the floor with those bastards, I can assure you," Bard said, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"So what is this 'master plan'?" Sarah asked, taking a sip of her cold tea to steady her shaking hands. Jareth was staring at them. Quickly, Sarah replaced the cup and clasped her trembling fingers in her lap.

"I was just telling his majesty a piece of it," Bard said. "The Labyrinth is all but impenetrable to outside forces, so it will be very difficult for us to get inside, particularly if the Consciously-Pompous-Shadow-Master has anything to say about it."

"The Consciousness is not to be trifled with, I've explained already how powerful he is," Jareth responded with a dark look, his hand twitched up as if to touch his injured side.

"Oh, bah! He's like the rest of the beasts and the fire should do the trick if we get it burning soon enough," Bard scoffed. "Well, we'll send in scouts first, stealthy goblins, and then..."

Sarah listened as best she could to Bard detailing the plan, his gruff voice laced with excitement, and tried to not let her attention wander. She and Jareth would set out for the Labyrinth in the morning, alone, while Bard remained their contact within his barrier.

"I'm too old to be of any use," Bard explained and earned a smile from Jareth, like a friend telling an inside joke.

"Now, tomorrow, you two take the off-road to the south," Bard explained. "The path cuts round to the opposite side of the Labyrinth, they would expect you in the front. Plenty of cover there, too, for when you run into changelings."

"Once you arrive," Bard continued. "You go straight to the forest, no flittering about. You must contact these friends of yours and tell them the plan. That night, send your _stealthiest goblins_ into the Goblin City_," _Bard emphasized to a petulant looking Jareth, "and have them stake out the changelings strong points. They will also be planting our secret weapon, in case anything goes wrong."

They would be storming the castle the next day. Bard explained the number of fighters they would need for each battalion and so on. Sarah grinned as Jareth looked more and more exasperated each time Bard said something ostentatious.

"We'll need a general, a cavalry man for the next phase," Bard mused, thinking. "He'll need to lead your group in."

"Sir Didymus," Sarah prompted automatically. "If he accepts, I think he would be the best one for the job."

Bard looked skeptical. "That little knight? Are you sure?"

"I have absolute faith in him," Sarah said. "He's one of my dearest friends."

Was it her imagination, or did Jareth look…jealous? _Make up your mind, Goblin King, _Sarah thought, _how do you feel?_

"If that's how you feel, then Didymus it is," Bard said. "As for the battle—"

From all Sarah knew about military procedure—which was next to nothing—what Bard explained sounded solid. They would infiltrate slowly, the way that the changelings had done, and take the entire city by storm at different points. Meanwhile, goblins would surround it, destroying any backup that the changelings called. Sarah felt a spark of hope rise within her as he spoke. _No wonder Jareth brought us here, _she thought, _Bard knows his stuff. _

"If all goes according to plan, we might just stand a chance at regaining it," Bard said. For the first time that night his face fell slightly and he looked almost doubtful. "The only problem is defeating this leader of theirs. I only hope that the fire is enough…"

"Don't worry, we'll find a way," Sarah said, but her insides seemed to twist with anxiety. Jareth was strangely quiet, leaning against the wall with his fingertips pressed together.

"I'll make us something special for supper," Bard said, perking up. "It's not every day that his majesty and the—"

Jareth cut him off with a curt shake of his head.

"That _his majesty_ visits my home," Bard finished, clearing his throat, "and with such a lovely lady friend at that. I'll make something special in any case."

"What was that about?" Sarah asked Jareth, who stood and wandered into Bard's comfortable living area.

"A slip of the tongue, nothing more," Jareth said, but his face gave it away. He was hiding something.

"You know, this whole not telling me everything deal is getting really old," Sarah said almost playfully, but she crossed her arms and stared him down. Jareth met her gaze. Sarah hadn't expected to see such caring in his eyes.

"You were having a nightmare," Jareth said, looking her over in concern.

"Yes," Sarah answered quietly. "I've been having those a lot lately, to be honest…"

Jareth frowned. "What about?"

"What do you think?" Sarah answered, touching the corner of her mouth unconsciously. "I just can't get him out of my head…"

A loud swear and the clink of metal hitting the stone floor rang out in the kitchen.

"Bloody hell!" Bard shouted to the sound of another pot clattering to the floor.

"I'd better make sure he doesn't hurt himself," Sarah said quickly and disappeared into the kitchen. She knew Jareth wanted to talk about her dreams, but how could she when she didn't understand them herself? _It's for the best that I keep things quiet, _Sarah thought, trying to convince herself it was true.

* * *

Sarah sat with Bard as he cooked their meal, making small talk as Jareth went outside to inspect the barrier. The hob had pulled down many dishes, thankfully not dropping them all, and set about to cooking. Although Sarah explained that she was a hopeless cook, Bard assigned her to chop vegetables for soup. She sat at the kitchen table, trying her best to keep the pieces even as Bard bustled around, tasting, stirring, and mixing. All the while, he talked.

"Again, I'm sorry about before," Bard said, stirring the pot over the stove which bubbled and hissed. "But I don't trust witches. I had to go to one of the Sisters Three to get that damned barrier put up. Theodora was the only one left and she's as batty as all hell, the mad old hag."

Sarah cracked a smile. Despite his initial demeanor, she liked this hobgoblin.

"How many survived?" Sarah asked, almost slicing her finger instead of the onion.

"I know a good dozen, maybe. Some stayed here at first, I've got a supply trunk of things they left behind," Bard said. "Most went back to the Labyrinth, some were taken…you just don't know who you can trust anymore…"

"No, you really don't," Sarah said, thinking of Derrick. She could feel the hot sting of tears threaten to overwhelm her. _I won't cry, _Sarah thought, clenching her fist around the knife.

"The barrier is fine, although I suspect our presence here could attract some changelings," Jareth said from behind them. Sarah jumped at the sound of his voice, almost losing her grip on the sharp blade. Jareth walked further in the room and gave her a curious glance before turning back to his friend. "Just how strong is that barrier, Bard?"

"If anyone sets a foot in my yard without trying the blood ritual, they'll get what's coming to them. Trust me, it's terribly unpleasant," Bard explained with relish, looking fiercely delighted.

"Well, that's reassuring, at least," Jareth said. Sarah was almost uncomfortable as he studied her slumped shoulders. _He knows my dreams, _Sarah thought.

"Bard, do you have supplies here?" Jareth asked.

"Yes, I've got a trunk of things that were forgotten when I was running a safe house, a hodgepodge of sorts," Bard explained, kneading bread as he spoke, clearly distracted.

"Might you have some clothing that would fit Sarah?" Jareth asked.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. Clean clothing sounded like heaven in comparison to her dirty pajamas, but it felt almost like he was trying to comfort her with material goods. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"Perhaps, trunks in the second bedroom," Bard said, stirring the pot over the fire again and tasting. "Needs more pepper…"

"Sarah, come with me," Jareth said, gesturing for her to follow.

She stood and wandered with him to one of the carved wooden doors in Bard's living area. Jareth went in first and Sarah could see him lighting candles all around the small bedroom with a match. It was sparsely furnished and decorated with lace doilies. Sarah couldn't help but smile at those frilly things in toughened, war-loving Bard's home. It was a pleasant surprise, much like his love for cooking.

Sarah lingered in the doorway as Jareth knelt before a large trunk at the foot of the bed. She could not say what held her back, she'd been alone with him before, and very recently at that, but there was something deeply intimate about being in his world, in his friend's home, and in a candlelit bedroom that made her feel that she was losing a certain measure of control.

"This could fit," Jareth said. He held up a long cream-colored dress. The sleeves would cap off at her upper arms, the material would cling to her. Sarah was tempted to put it on right away just to feel it against her skin.

Sarah ventured a few steps in as Jareth stood and held the dress up against her. She tried to scold her heart into beating slower, to no avail. Jareth's hands rested languidly against her body, holding none of the restriction that she had come to expect. Yes, the contact was through his gloves, the dress, and her t-shirt. But the warm, wonderful pressure of being touched was there, his fingertips pressing lightly beneath her collarbone, just against the swell of her breasts to hold the gown in place.

"Will I be able to run in it wearing my slippers?" Sarah asked, finally finding her voice.

Jareth frowned, setting the dress on the edge of the bed. "I'll be back, wait a moment."

Sarah decided to pick through the contents of the trunk, pulling anything she thought might fit, which was very little. Everything seemed to be for goblins, fairies, or perhaps very corpulent women, judging by the impressively large skirt she found there. Apart from clothes there were supplies, weapons and nonperishable foods. She made a mental note to ask Bard what was all right to take.

Despite continuing her search, the only thing Sarah found that could fit her was a thin, white undergarment set with boning and laces, like a corset or cincher. _Well, you didn't wear a bra, _Sarah thought to herself, _at least you'll get some use out of it. _Digging a bit further in the box yielded a pair of matching pantaloons. When Jareth returned, he was carrying something that Sarah hadn't been expecting.

"Those are yours," Sarah observed, setting aside the undergarments and staring at the dark brown leather boots he carried.

"Yes, and I have others," Jareth stated and set them beside the dress. "This way you can run."

Sarah righted herself to stand beside Jareth and stare down at the clothing. In doing so, she glanced down at her feet and then his.

"They won't fit," Sarah said.

Jareth tilted his head. "Oh? Explain, precious."

"Your feet, they're bigger than mine," she explained.

"I see," Jareth said, tapping his lower lip with a long finger. Sarah tried to look away from the motion, but her eyes flashed instantly to his mouth. Jareth caught her stare and slowly dropped his hand to cross his arms, a smug look in his eyes. He conjured a crystal in a flash.

"Jareth, don't," Sarah said. "Won't magic attract the changelings?"

Jareth smiled wryly and began to spin it with a tilt of his head, slow at first, then faster, until it was nothing but a sparkling blur in his hand.

Just as Sarah thought she could not take staring at the spiraling orb any longer, he threw it straight down. The crystal shattered over the boots with a bright spark, leaving traces of glitter along the floor.

"They're the right size," Sarah marveled.

"Try them on," Jareth said.

Sara sat on the bed and pulled the boots on, one at a time. They fit as though made for her. She stood carefully. Even though the boots had heels, they were incredibly comfortable, the leather soft against her. Sarah twirled a couple of steps, unable to help it.

"They suit you," Jareth commented.

"Thanks," Sarah said with another little twirl. "I think I understand why you like these things so much now. You will _not_ be getting them back, by the way," she informed him with a smile.

"Wouldn't ask it of you, precious," he said, closing the trunk.

Sarah stopped mid twirl and gave him a pointed stare. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

She hadn't meant to sound so husky, but it bubbled out and there was no way to retract it. Jareth looked a bit taken aback by her bluntness.

"You called me that before too," Sarah continued, "all those years ago. Why?"

"I think it should be quite obvious," Jareth said, bristling, trying to keep the demeanor he paraded before her, a calm and cool exterior, but his voice lowered as he next spoke, "It's what you _are._"

"Food's ready," Bard said, shuffling through the open door. He stopped and stared from Sarah to Jareth and back again. "Am I interrupting?"

"No," Jareth said in a harsh voice before briskly striding out.

"What's gotten into him?" Bard asked, staring.

"I'm not sure," Sarah whispered.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. Bard had made a fantastic amount of food in such a short time. Roasted meat, fresh bread, delicious soup, all piled on the table before them. Sarah could hardly concentrate on eating, even as Bard set out an impressive layered pudding. _He's doing it again, _Sarah's inner teen grumbled, _ignoring me. _It was true. Jareth barely granted a glance in her direction throughout the entire meal. Bard seemed to notice to and took turns speaking to each of them while the other stared off, lost in thought.

"I think I'll go to bed now, I don't feel very well," Sarah said, standing abruptly and making Jareth and Bard stop midsentence.

"Sleep in the guest room," Bard said. "The one with the trunk."

Sarah didn't need to be told twice and bolted. She shut the door tightly behind her and lit a few candles to change by as she kicked off the boots. Perhaps sleep would put her mind at ease. Sarah wriggled out of the pajamas which were already worn and slightly thinner after a few days in the Underground. She slipped on the white undergarments and tied the laces tightly before putting on the dress. The silk was soft and creamy, heaven against her aching body. Sarah almost sighed as she snuggled beneath the sheets. After sleeping on unforgiving ground, the bed was an answered prayer.

_Sarah…_

Hands searching, touching, but not catching. Light pulsed before her, teasing her with its welcome brightness, a wanton wild creature. It lit curlicues in the sky and beckoned to her.

"You," Sarah said, it echoed a thousand times around. The small light flickered in the distance, dancing, showing her the way.

_Mine, always. _

"Don't leave me!" Sarah called. The light ignored her desperate plea and swirled, a dizzying pattern in the eternal dark. Sarah moved forward, her fingers reaching. _Searching, touching. _The light floated further. A smile, a Cheshire's lazy grin, appeared in the dark. Her bright orb darted towards it, playing right into its wicked hands.

"No, please," Sarah whimpered, but it was too late. The smile blew and snuffed the light out.

Cold hands descended on her shoulders, long nails grazing her arms and making her skin erupt in goosebumps. _You are mine, you know…_the voice whispered. So harsh, so guttural, so inhuman it hurt to hear. She could feel sharp teeth gently teasing against her neck from behind, hands smoothing up and down her sides. _Mine…_

"I'm not," Sarah said, sounding stronger than she felt. She had a purpose.

_Are you his?_

"Whose?" she asked, the resulting echo ominous in her ears.

_You tell me. _

A shape, living darkness, moved before her in the void. Eyes opened, teeth gleamed.

"Sarah," the creature before her said. A harsh taunt in a human voice.

"Derrick?" Sarah asked. Lips collided with hers, smothering her. Sara could not draw breath from mouth or nose, both were pressed too tightly into the shadow. The voice at her back laughed, its hands pushing her forward, trapping her between two evils.

"Sarah!"

Someone had hold of her shoulders and was shaking her awake. Sarah fell forward against the hard line of Jareth's body and clung to him, trembling and gasping. He rested his head against hers, his hands stroking her hair gently. Sarah pressed into the warmth of his shirt, her head tucked beneath his chin. She drew deep breaths and could feel her shaking subside.

"You must not allow yourself to have those dreams," Jareth murmured against her hair. "They're draining you."

"You know what I've been dreaming about?" Sarah asked into his shirt. Jareth untangled himself from her embrace.

"Not exactly," he said. "Your dreams are dark. They're troubled, I know. But I can't go inside your head and see your dreams. Besides, with the changelings here everything feels...wrong, distorted. Even in the world of dreams, it's not as clear as it used to be."

Sarah breathed deeply. "It's the same ones, over and over. Now, _he's _there. He wasn't there before."

"I see," Jareth answered. Just like that, the distance was back. He stood, eliminating the space between them to stand at the foot of the bed.

It was dark in the bedroom and the only light was that of the half-moon filtered through the shuttered windows. All Sarah could discern was a flash of his pale hair and aristocratic profile. He was so secluded within himself, so very far away.

"I didn't do it on purpose," she whispered.

"I haven't the slightest idea of what you mean," Jareth said with a turn of his head.

"Jareth," Sarah said, sitting up straighter, "you know."

"And perhaps I don't. Explain," Jareth said, a clear challenge in his voice as he crossed his arms. His eyes dared her, but to do what, she wasn't sure.

"I didn't have those dreams intentionally," she said, fists clutching at the sheets. "I don't _want _Derrick in my head."

Her voice cracked with unshed tears on the last sentence and Sarah could sense an immediate change in him. Jareth sat at the end of the bed. He was a safe distance away and even if they reached for each other, they couldn't touch. But Jareth was still there, that was enough for her.

"You loved him," Jareth stated openly, not looking up. He wasn't asking her to deny it or apologize, he simply stated what was.

"Yes, I did," Sarah said. "But I didn't need him and he didn't know me. In the end, I wonder what it was I really felt."

"Do you miss him?" Jareth asked.

"I miss how he made me feel," she said with a sigh, then caught sight of Jareth's expression. "No, you pervert, not that," she scolded and earned a welcome smile. Sarah sobered and moved closer to him until they sat side by side, "I miss the way he made me feel that it was all figured out and I miss how he made me feel loved. It's selfish and stupid, but it's true."

"It's not selfish," Jareth said, eyes flashing. "Everything needs to be loved."

The silence between them was palpable, but calm. It was not the angry, confused quiet that had pervaded earlier. This was something akin to peace.

"Jareth, where are you going to sleep?" Sarah asked.

"I'm sure I'll find somewhere acceptable," Jareth said then furrowed his winged brows. "Although, knowing Bard, the beds should be a tight fit…"

"Stay here," Sarah said. Jareth had a rare look of genuine surprise on his face. "Please? I don't want to be alone."

For once she had him at a loss for words. Sarah got back under the covers and felt Jareth do the same on the other side of the bed. It was a routine she'd shared with Derrick, with Nick before him, and so on. Sarah had been wrong many times in her life, about many things. As soon as she was beneath the sheets and could feel the warmth that radiated from his body, she knew.

_This is right. _

* * *

**Author's Note: **Jareth's on and off behavior will be explained in better detail as the story progresses. Lot's of J/S interaction approaching! Thanks for taking the time to read my story and to those of you who have reviewed, followed or made a favorite. Please R&R.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Labyrinth. It belongs to Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

**Author's Note: **Let me start off by saying I'm sorry its been so long since my last update! I've been terribly busy with school and a neglectful author, I hope I didn't keep anyone waiting too long. Updates should be much more regular following this chapter. Chapter 10 is going to be a bit short, the second half of it should be up shortly! A big thanks to those who have read and either reviewed, followed, or made this story a favorite, it means a lot!

Chapter 10

"Ready"

Sarah snuggled closer into warmth, a contented smile on her lips. It was all around her, comforting and enveloping. She almost sighed, it was so good. Fingers twitched at her hip, but Sarah was so deliciously sleepy, she took no notice. Only until they curled into her skin and she heard a contented sigh, did her eyes flutter open. A small smile touched her lips. Jareth slept on his stomach, his head on her shoulder and wild disheveled hair tickling her cheek. He had slung an arm across her, his fingers wrapped around her hip. It was an oddly possessive act in sleep, in another time with another person, it may have annoyed her. Not now. Sarah closed her eyes again, her thoughts lazy and indulgent.

_This is nice, _she thought, resting her head on top of his. She remembered the previous night. Jareth had crawled into bed and stayed on his side. He didn't try to touch her, he didn't say anything. He simply lay down to sleep. Now he sprawled against her, almost unconsciously nuzzling her shoulder. _Holding me, _Sarah thought. The thought bubbled through her, a happy buzz. Her feelings for him were anything but set in stone, but she knew that she cared for him, and deeply. They were leaving in the morning, early. _What if I never have another moment like this? _Sarah thought. With a small measure of hesitation, Sarah wrapped her arm around his back to pull him closer, idly playing with long tendrils of his hair as she lost herself to the sweetness of it all and fell back into deep sleep.

Sarah wasn't sure how long she was out when she was awakened by distant voices and a distinct feeling of cold. Jareth was gone. Sarah sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and feeling chilled from the early morning air. Just outside the shuttered window, light from sunrise filtered in. Sarah stretched and stood, feeling better than she had in days. _How am I ever going to go back to sleeping on the ground? _she thought with a longing glance at Bard's feather bed. Sarah pulled on her boots one by one and tried to make out the voices that awoke her.

"Doing magic in my home. If you weren't my sovereign…" Bard grumbled from the adjacent room. From the sound of his footsteps, he was pacing back and forth, frantic.

"The magic was for Sarah," Jareth replied. Sarah hadn't realized just how agitated Bard was until she heard Jareth's calm reply. The contrast startled her.

Bard's next few words were indistinguishable, a panicked muttering. Sarah walked to the door to hear.

"…now they're out there. I thought you understood, majesty. The changelings are attracted to it, two ventured in the yard last night, got burnt to smithereens!" Bard finished.

"Then what seems to be the problem?"

"The problem is, they know we're here. They can't get past the barrier, but they know we're inside, and they're just dying to feed on us," Bard said, a shiver in his voice.

"I'll handle it." Jareth said with delicate menace.

Sarah didn't doubt his sincerity, or his ability to make his words come true. There was a definite edge to his voice, a promise to cause pain. It sent a terrifying thrill through her, hearing his voice sound like that. It was familiar and terrible and somehow wonderful as well.

Sarah stared down the boots that had started the trouble before wandering from her room. She could immediately sense the seriousness of the situation as she caught a glimpse of Bard's horror-struck face. Tension was radiating from the hobgoblin in waves. Sarah could never have imagined him looking so shaken. Jareth stood to the side, his calm and unmoved expression extenuating Bard's tightly wound demeanor.

"What's wrong?" she asked, although from the snippet of conversation she had heard Sarah knew that it could be nothing good.

"Morning, Sarah," Bard said, ignoring her question, his expression tired and worn. "Would you like a bit of breakfast?"

Sarah frowned and turned to Jareth, waiting for an explanation.

"There are changelings waiting for us, just outside of the barrier," Jareth said with a nod of his head in the direction of Bard's front yard.

Sarah felt her heart begin the pound a rougher rhythm, the thin healing line beside her mouth tingled in time with her fear.

"What are we going to do?" she asked. Jareth's silence frightened her. Although she had thought of him as many different things over the years, there was one thing she had always been sure of. He was always the one with the answers, he always knew what he was doing, each move calculated and precise. Somehow, his hesitation frightened her more than any elaborate plan would have.

"It's quite simple, really. We're going to fight," he replied.

Bard blanched and Sarah took in a shaky breath.

"Okay, okay," she whispered aloud, more to herself than to them. "How many are there?"

"See for yourself," Bard answered, dejected as he gestured to the open window.

Sarah walked slowly over and peered out. The wasteland was as bleak and empty as ever, a breeze made the high grass flutter and shine gold for a moment in the sunrise. The only object in her line of sight was a small, shrouded figure who stood just at the edge of the river rocks.

The creature seemed to sense Sarah's gaze and looked up expectantly, her eyes resting exactly where the window was. The changeling was small, perhaps the size of a two-year old human child, and hooded. It stared pointedly at the house and its hood fell back to expose a sweetly smiling face, made cold and empty by the creature wearing it. It's eyes held hellfire. Sarah drew back with a sharp breath.

"Is that…is she what I think she is?" Sarah asked, turning to Jareth and Bard.

"A little hobgoblin girl," Bard said. "Just a child."

"That's it?" Sarah said, almost relieved. "This shouldn't be a problem. We have the matches and…why are you both looking at me like that?"

"Look again, precious," Jareth prodded.

Sarah felt warmth pool in her stomach in response to the gentleness in his voice. She didn't have time to dwell on the way it made her feel, instead she glanced once more out the open window.

"I see something," she said, squinting against the glare of the rising sun.

Surrounding the child was a buzzing cloud, faint and pale, but slightly shimmering.

"Fairies," Sarah said sourly.

"A whole swarm of them," Bard spat like a curse. "Nothing worse than taken fairies. Not that they were very pleasant before."

"I know, I remember," Sarah answered with a small huff. "Well, there's no use delaying the inevitable. We'll have to fight them."

Jareth wrinkled his brow. "I could take care of it, push them back—"

"No!" Sarah interrupted, startling herself, and Bard, with her intensity. "I mean, no. You don't need to do that. _I _need to help. How else am I ever going to learn?"

Jareth took a step closer. "There are dozens of them, Sarah."

"I can handle it," she said softly, with more conviction than she felt.

He searched her face for a moment and Sarah did her best to imitate that mask of calm indifference he had perfected. One single twitch, one show of uncertainty, and Sarah felt sure that they would never leave.

After what seemed like an age, Jareth nodded.

"Let's go then," Sarah said.

"I need to be sure we're packed," Jareth said, striding off toward the bedroom where their bag and Bard's extra supplies were.

"And you, missy, should eat a spot of breakfast," Bard said, pulling her away from the window. "Come on, no point fighting if you're going to fall down in a dead faint."

"If you say so," Sarah said with a small smile as he led her to the kitchen. She allowed Bard to fuss over her for a moment, shoveling food onto a plate and giving her a prodding stare. Sarah smiled and began to eat, but her nerves were getting the best of her. She felt anything but hungry at the moment.

She could make herself sound as confident as she wanted, but inside, her stomach was in knots. Sarah finished eating and dropped her hands in her lap so Bard wouldn't see the shaking. More importantly, Jareth wouldn't see the shaking. Somehow, Sarah knew he knew she wasn't ready, but she would never admit it to him. After what had happened the previous night, sleeping in his arms, Sarah knew that she couldn't stand the thought of him being hurt, and was sure he felt the same. It both gave her tingles of warmth, almost joy that he might have those feelings, and annoyance. She didn't want him trying to stop her from helping him save the Labyrinth. She couldn't put her finger on a reason, but Sarah could feel it. She needed to help. It was more than wanting, it was almost like…_my duty, _she thought, shocking herself with the revelation. _Where did that come from?_

"Bag's all packed," Jareth said, striding in the kitchen with it slung over his shoulder.

Sarah stood and moved to start washing her dish. Bard took it from her with a shake of his head and a fond smile.

"I'll be taking that," he said. "Girl's who are going into battle shouldn't stop to do dishes."

Sarah cracked a grin and bent down to hug the hob.

"I'm going to miss you," she said with an extra tight squeeze.

Bard patted her back softly. "Same to you, missy. But who knows? We could see each other again soon."

"Stranger things have happened," she said. Sarah smiled at him once more before standing and facing Jareth. "Are you ready?"

He gave her a catlike stare, his head cocked to the side, and his mouth a serious line. "Are you?"

"Yes, yes," she said, walking toward the front door with more confidence than she felt. "Completely."

"Sarah," he said, following her.

They were alone now, Sarah could hear Bard in the kitchen and the clink of dishes being cleaned.

"Yes?" she breathed.

Jareth stared down at her, frowning.

"What is it?" Sarah asked, looking up. Why did he have to be so tall?

Jareth sucked in a sigh and stepped away from her. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"I don't want to see you hurt either," she said, almost impatiently. If they didn't leave soon, she would lose her nerve.

Jareth surprised her with a sardonic smile. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, of course," she asked after a moment of pure astonishment. "How can you even ask me that?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, sweet little Sarah…"

Sarah put a hand on her hip and stared him down. "What, might I ask, is so funny about my caring about you?"

Jareth's laughing subsided, but his mouth still held a shadow of that twisted grin. When he spoke, his voice was serious. "You don't."

Sarah blanched. _Are we really having this conversation right now? _she thought. It was too much, too deep, too soon. For a moment, Sarah almost let herself feel warmth, she almost gave into the feeling in her stomach that rose up and threatened to strangle her when he was near. But she didn't. Fear won.

"Yes I do, okay. Now _let's go,_" she choked out, frustrated and whining. Sarah cringed at the sound of her own petulant voice.

"Sarah…you are so…" he began, an edge of anger in his voice. He stopped and shook his head with a sigh. "No, you're right. Let's go."

He strode past her, stopping at the door to pull a wicked looking knife from the pack, poised and waiting to fight.

Sarah knew he didn't believe her, he couldn't believe that she felt anything deeper than alliance with him. It wasn't as if she had given him any reason to. She didn't know what she felt about the Goblin King, but she knew that she cared. _How dare he tell me what I do and do not feel, _she thought, her temper flaring, _I care._

"Are you ready, Sarah? Don't lie to me," Jareth asked.

"As I'll ever be," she answered.

Bard walked into the living area. "Leaving?"

"Yes," Jareth said. He turned and placed a hand on the little man's shoulder. "Thank you."

Bard swept into a bow, awkward with age, but brimming with dignity. "Of course, majesty."

"Goodbye, Bard," Sarah said. "Thank you."

Bard gave Sarah a bow that matched the reverent respect of the one he'd granted Jareth. Sarah was touched. "Good luck, my lady."

It would have sounded silly from anyone else. Sarah smiled, almost a bit teary. She truly would miss the odd little man.

"Come, Sarah," Jareth said.

Jareth opened the door, Sarah flinched at the sight of the bright wasteland, at the edge of the barrier stood the hob-girl, around her floated the swarm. Sarah felt her fear rise anew, choking her. She wasn't ready, she was anything but ready. _You wanted to do this, _she reminded herself, _and you are. _They took slow, easy steps through the yard, still safe within the river rocks. The thought struck Sarah that this could be the last she spoke to Jareth. She had to say something after how it had ended in the house. She needed to let him know that she felt _something. _

"Jareth," Sarah said, grabbing his sleeve before he could take another step. "I—"

He clamped a hand over her mouth and shook his head. Sarah's eyes widened. He dropped his hand and put a finger to his lips.

She mouthed, "Can they hear us?"

He nodded. Sarah breathed deeply. She gestured to the bag and mouthed, "Weapon."

Jareth reached inside and handed her what seemed to be a wooden club. Sarah raised an eyebrow and felt her mouth gape open. Jareth shook his head and turned from her with it, rummaging through supplies before turning back. It was a torch, burning so brightly in the sun that it hurt to look at. Sarah took the torch with a nod and inhaled deeply, steeling her courage. Her free hand twitched to the small pocket of her dress that held extra matches. They took a few more steps. They were so close, just at the barrier's edge. _A few steps from death, _she thought and swallowed against the lump in her throat. Jareth turned to her and reached up a gloved hand to trace the curve of her cheekbone, fingers lingering lightly against warm skin.

Sarah's heart skipped a beat. Whatever she wanted to say, however she wanted to say it, could never speak as many volumes as that single gesture. She granted him a smile and leaned into his touch, hoping he could see that she did mean what she had said. She cared. _I care so much, _Sarah thought.

"Ready?" he mouthed to her.

Sarah sucked in a breath and gave a curt nod. Jareth leaned down, whispering directly in her ear.

"Sarah, we are not aiming for carnage, we are going to run. Fight what you can, but keep running south-eastern, there are swamps there, we'll hide there tonight. It will be easier to pick them off in the darkness," he said in one harsh sentence.

Sarah nodded, her heart pounding in her ears as she stared directly into the face of the taken hobgoblin girl. The child's face still held that chilling smile, a murderer's Cheshire grin. Sarah had never been so afraid in her life.

"Now," Jareth said.

Sarah crossed the border of the river rocks in a single, running bound, with Jareth directly behind her. To her surprise, the hobgoblin ignored her, she simply stared on with an amused smile. The fairies were not so passive.

Sarah cried out as one of them bit her exposed forearm, tearing skin with a vicious snarl.

"Get back!" she shouted, swinging the torch. The fairies giggled as they glided away in a swirl, regrouping. One was not so lucky. It caught on the torch and screamed like Derrick had, high and keening as it incinerated.

"Sarah!" Jareth shouted, cutting down three fairies with a swipe of his knife. "Run."

He took off, all long legs and graceful movements. Sarah kept up as best she could, muscles aching and chest heaving. A fairy caught a piece of her hair, still giggling like mad. It latched onto her cheek and bit down. Sarah swooned as it began sucking greedily on her and felt that it was drawing something much more vital than blood. She stopped running long enough to wrap her fingers around its slight body.

"Off of me!" Sarah was able to grunt out, pulling it from her skin, crumpling it in her hand, and tossing the crushed body away. She didn't look back to see where it had gone. The flame on her torch was streaming as she ran once more and Sarah hoped it wouldn't burn out. Up ahead, the tips of trees loomed before dipping into a low, leafy valley. She could see the silver blond of Jareth's hair just ahead of her.

"The swamps," Sarah huffed as she ran.

"Faster, Sarah!" Jareth shouted from up ahead. He stopped for her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind him. The changelings were right on their tail, making high shrieking noises, the fairies small, pointed fingers reaching. Jareth wrenched the torch from Sarah's iron grip and dropped it into the foliage. Immediately flames sprouted up, a wall of fire between them and their hunters. The changelings shrieked and jerked back, regrouping. For an instant, Sarah met eyes with the small girl. The child smiled wide, laughing in the face of the fire. She clapped her small hands together in a happy rhythm and hummed a jaunty tune. Sarah shook her head and stumbled backward, unsettled by the sight of her.

"That won't hold them forever, we need to keep moving," Jareth said. Sarah allowed him to grab her arm once again in a desperate tug, a stitch in her side burned as her aching legs continued to carry her forth. They dipped lower into the dank, verdant valley, shutting out the last light of day. The further they ran, the more black forms of trees surrounded them. Sarah could hear the soft stalking steps of their enemy and the buzz of the fairies wings. A haunting tune from the mouth of a child swirled in on the air. The only thing that was real was Jareth's hand, pulling desperately on her own. Sarah swallowing them up as they ran into uncertain darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Labyrinth is not mine, sadly I'm afraid it never will be. It belongs to Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie, etc.

"Fight and Flight"

"Jareth, stop, please!" Sarah gasped out, her legs struggling to take even another step.

The man in front of her was a different story. His breathing was rough, but it was still even and free of struggle, the careful, metered breathing of an Olympic runner. The grueling physical exertion they had just undergone seemed to only strengthen his resolve, make him faster. _If he sweats he glistens, _Sarah thought with a mental grumble, wiping a hand over her forehead to wipe off beads of perspiration.

She took two more half-hearted steps before falling forward against a tree and clinging to it for support. Her legs shook, her throat was strangled, and her head was faint and dizzy. Never in her life had she run so far so fast.

"Sarah," Jareth said, his voice impatient but betraying a hint of concern. "There's no time."

"Easy…for…_you _to say," Sarah was able to pant out between deep gasps for air. She turned and leaned her back against the tree, her legs buckled with the effort. "Oh my God, I need to take a nap or join a gym. Nap first."

"There will be time for napping when we aren't being hunted. Right now we've got to move," he retorted as he paced in frustration. Sarah could swear she saw him roll his eyes. That ticked her off.

"Fine then, bossy, but if I die of exhaustion it's on you," she said, still out of breath. He gave her a scolding look that clearly said, _this is not the time for jokes. _Shakily, she pushed herself off of the tree and struggled for a moment to continue standing. The world spun. Sarah drew in slow breath. That helped a little. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go."

Jareth clasped her hand and was off again, pulling her behind him. She ducked branches and dodged stumps, trying best to keep up with the quick, catlike leaps that Jareth took. Sarah could hardly fathom why they were still running. _We lost those things when he started the fire, _she thought. It was true, they hadn't seen hide or tail of either the taken hobgoblin or the fairies since they began their run.

Sarah's foot caught on a vine. She stumbled, pulling Jareth with her. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sarah cut him off with one quick shake of her head. A quick flexing of her foot told her that it would certainly bruise. There was nothing that could be done at the moment.

"Perfect," Sarah whispered, her ankle giving a painful twinge.

"Are you hurt?" Jareth asked.

Sarah didn't look at him, if he showed her even a measure of pity in her exhausted, injured state, she couldn't take it.

"I'm fine," she said and righted herself to run once again, but everything from the knee down on her right side screamed in protest.

_Stupid swamp, _she thought, leaping over another vine. The light that filtered through the dense leaves above was almost nonexistent, it made everything shapes and shadows. _Worse than if it were total darkness, _Sarah thought as a thorn sunk into the sole of her boot, puncturing her toe slightly. She shook it off, tried to ignore her light-headedness, and continued on. The dank, murky air was humid, making each breath a struggle. Sarah had no idea where they were going, although Jareth insisted it was South East. How he could tell in this darkness was a mystery to her.

Jareth stopped without warning and Sarah barreled right into him, still clutching his hand. To her surprise, he did not stumble, instead he caught her around the waist as she fell and held her up. Sarah couldn't complain. She hadn't realized just how tired she was until Jareth supported her entire weight. She could have fallen asleep right then and there.

"Jareth, why did we—"

"Shh," he said with a finger to his lips. "Do you hear that?"

Sarah shook her head. Trembling from running, all Sarah could really hear was the blood pounding in her ears and the sound of her own labored breathing.

Jareth looked down on her in concern for a moment. "Sarah, are you all right?"

"Not really," she said a bit faintly. "Just a little...tired."

He didn't say anything. Instead he guided her to a wide tree with low hanging branches and sat her down. Sarah's legs gave out just as she hit the ground. Her head lolled back against the tree trunk as she tried to keep her breathing even. Jareth sat beside her, looking her over in concern.

"We can rest soon," he said soothingly, brushing back a damp tendril of her hair.

Sarah swallowed with a shaky sigh and, without waiting for permission, rested her cheek against his shoulder. He stiffened slightly before reaching gently behind her to rest his hand on her back, steadying her.

"Aren't I resting now?" Sarah asked, her voice muffled against his jacket.

Jareth laughed. "Well, yes."

"Good, because I'm very sleepy," she said. She could feel his laughter reverberating through him. It was soothing. "Jareth, I've been meaning to ask. Swamps form where rivers and oceans meet, right? How is this place here?"

Sarah closed her eyes, but she could hear Jareth's smile in his voice as he spoke. "My world is not like yours. The sea once flowed here, and a river too, but just because they're gone doesn't mean this can't remain."

"That's confusing," Sarah said, leaning further into his side.

"Not so much," he whispered. His voice turned smug, "Well, not if you're _me_."

Sarah laughed, "Well, not all of us are lucky enough to be like you."

"No, but some of us are," he replied.

"You always do that."

"Hmm, do what, precious?"

Sarah opened her eyes and frowned. "You always say one thing but mean another. I've gotta say, it gets frustrating."

Jareth froze the trail his hand was making up and down her spine before righting himself with a snort of indignation. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You totally do, Mr. Cryptic," Sarah accused. She could have sworn she heard Jareth's heart stop. _Well, I guess I am onto something, _she thought before brushing the thought aside and snuggling closer. Her proximity seemed to confuse Jareth even more, making him freeze once again, dumbfounded. It was like cuddling up to a statue. "I don't care though, too tired to care…"

Although Jareth seemed taken aback by Sarah's friendlier than usual demeanor, he relaxed. Sarah was sure he was feeling even more comfortable than she was, and that was saying something.

"Feeling a bit better?" he asked, his voice softer. Sarah sighed as he gently rubbed her back.

"Yes," she breathed out in a contented sigh. Sarah raised her head and saw him staring down at her as if she really were that word he was always using. Precious. She leaned back and studied him, those odd eyes that said so much more than those perfect lips. "Jareth? I want to know—"

Something hard barreled into their side. Sarah flew, her body rolling away from Jareth's. She hit another tree trunk with a dull thud. Another bruise for sure. _I should make a list, _she thought, clutching her ribs. She sat up and scrambled to her feet. She saw Jareth rise from a crouch in one fluid motion. He dropped the bag from his shoulder, holding his knife. It took a moment to register what was happening, and then she saw them.

The hobgoblin child and her swarm stood in the shadow between two trees, sparse light from above the treetops glinted off the fairy wings. The little girl looked absolutely delighted and bounced slightly on her heels.

"Oh goody," she said and her high, babyish voice echoed around them.

"Sarah," Jareth said without turning to look at her, "go."

Sarah dove to the bag and rummaged inside for something, anything, as the fairies attacked. She caught hold of another small club. A torch would have to do.

"Sarah, go!" Jareth repeated, his voice charged with frantic energy. He didn't stop to see whether or not she would heed him. He leapt forth toward the hobgoblin, cutting down one fairy in his wake. The creature gave a pitiful scream as it fell, its false form fading away before the darkness beneath died as well in the sparse sunlight.

Sarah struck a match clumsily with her shaking hands, lighting the end of the torch as best she could. The fairies were regrouping, an angry, buzzing swarm.

"Screw it," she muttered and began to run, her torch barely smoldering. Her legs ached in protest after sitting, even for such a short while. _Jareth can't fight them all, _she thought. Sarah stopped running and noticed that only half the swarm was following her. In a split second decision, she let out a long high scream. _That's right, _she thought as the rest of the swarm flew closer, obviously intrigued by her false shouts and screams of pain, _come and get the easy prey. _

They were upon her, sharp little teeth bared. Sarah fumbled around in her pocket one handed, her free arm waving haphazardly to keep the swarm at bay. One latched onto the back of her hand. Sarah slammed it against the nearest tree and saw its fairy skin disappear before the monster beneath let out a death scream in the scant sunlight. She caught up a match between two fingers and took a moment to light it from her thumbnail. The fairies hissed and hung back at the sight of the burning flame in the darkened forest.

"What's the matter?" she couldn't help but taunt. "Afraid of fire?"

Sarah brought the small flame to the end of her torch. Without her earlier frenzy, it lit instantly, a bright blaze. The changelings screeched and hung back on the edge of the clearing.

"Now who's easy prey?" she asked under her breath before charging.

The fairies, to her surprise, did not retreat. They flew around her cautiously as Sarah turned in a circle, brandishing her torch. One lone changeling flew forth, tilting its head in childlike interest. The sight terrified Sarah so much, it was all she could do to keep the torch aloft. _They will consume me if I'm not careful, _she thought, her heartbeat strong in her ears.

The creature flew once around the flame and hissed, Sarah moved to hit it, but the power of flight made it faster.

"Ow!" she screamed as the fairy's small fingernails dug into her cheek, tearing away. It's eyes lit up at the sight of blood and it flew forth, tongue showing.

Without thought or a moment's hesitation, Sarah ran. The fairies let out a screech of victory and followed, faster than anything Sarah could have expected. She leapt over fallen logs and loose vines, her boots nearly stuck in a puddle of muddy earth. She wrenched herself free, but the delay gave another fairy a chance to bite her.

Sarah shook her arm, dislodging the tiny body into the air. The fairy hung back, eyes dancing as it licked its bloodied lips in relish.

_I need to get back, to Jareth and the supplies, _she thought. Unable to think of a better option, Sarah raised the torch high and took a running leap at the fairies.

"Get back!" Sarah shouted and gave the torch an almighty swing into the cloud of buzzing devils. Three of them ignited, screaming as they burned, their true essences revealed, murky and shadowed before dying. Sarah gave the remaining beasts a triumphant look and held the torch aloft. They screeched and cringed away from the light.

"Ha!" Sarah said in triumph and swung the torch into the cloud again. The momentum of her swing was too much. The torch blew out. "Damn..."

Sarah dropped the smoldering wood and ducked beneath the flying beasts, heading back toward where she had left Jareth and the hobgoblin. The fairies regrouped and swarmed after her, she could hear their small wings beating violently. If she could make it to Jareth, she could grab matches, anything bright, and destroy them. There, up ahead, Sarah could see the leather bag filled with contraband items from the Aboveground, but Jareth and the girl were gone.

"Please have something that will work," she breathed out. Sarah dove toward the bag, the fairies hot on her trail, buzzing and shrieking, a deadly swarm. She grabbed hold of her salvation and began rummaging through it.

"Stupid, sparkly Goblin King. Can't bring anything _useful_," she muttered under her breath as she pushed aside several crystals and a spare silken white shirt. "There's gotta be something in here..."

At the bottom, among the items that she had characterized as 'useless', just beneath the jump rope and the magnifying glass, was an unopened bottle of lighter fluid.

"Nevermind that last bit," Sarah apologized to no one in particular. She grabbed the bottle and unscrewed the gap, releasing its acrid scent into the air.

The fairies were getting closer, their tiny hands reaching, nails long, the sharpness of their teeth visible in their open mouths. As they flew into range, Sarah squeezed the bottle, not stopping the assault until they were all doused. All of them fell to the ground with high screams. They looked so pitiful, so helpless. Sarah almost felt sorry as she struck the match.

Their small eyes turned to her, burning with hatred. The one nearest to her stretched its arm in an unnatural motion, the ghostly form of a shadow hand seeping large and misshapen from the tips of its miniscule fingers. Without a single moment of hesitation, she dropped the match.

They were gone. Sarah choked out in relief and began staggering back in the direction she'd run, following the frantic path that her boots had formed. A vicious snarl met her ears, intermingled with high, keening shrills.

"Jareth?" Sarah called.

No one answered.

"Jareth!" she called again, breaking into a run despite her aching body. A stitch ached in her side and her thigh muscles cramped with overuse. She ran forth despite the pain, arms pumping at her sides. She could see the blond of his hair up ahead in a clearing, the brightest spot on her horizon in the slowly darkening swamp. _The sun's going down, _Sarah thought in panic, _the changelings won't have to wear their stolen skin._ Sarah could only stop and stare at the edge of the clearing, staring on in horror as Jareth's time was running out.

Jareth stood, facing off against the hob girl, small wounds on his face and hair that was messier than usual told Sarah that they had fought ever since she fled. Both Goblin King and stolen subject were breathing heavily, staring at each other with unguarded hatred in their eyes. His whole body tensed as they circled each other. Jareth clutched at his right arm, which dangled slightly at his side, before pushing it back into place with a sickening popping sound.

The small girl's face contorted terribly with joy as he winced in pain. Blood glinted red on pearly baby teeth when she smiled. Sarah noted that the hob child had faired just as badly as her king, with numerous obvious injuries on her small body.

The girl grinned in triumph as she noted the setting sun. With a shriek, the hob lunged from their circling dance to finish him, but Jareth was quicker. He caught her up in his arms as she sprang forth. She struggled, her stolen form already beginning to dissipate to reveal the darkness beneath. Blank white irises replaced the child's doe-like eyes and the teeth she flashed were pointed. Before she could change fully, Jareth moved. With a violent twist of the girl, he snapped her neck. The hobgoblin fell to the ground and twitched once. Jareth lit a match from his jacket pocket and dropped it on the body. Immediately she ignited, screaming her last scream as her girl-flesh gave way to a shadowy form.

Jareth whipped his head around, eyes searching the forest. Sarah stood in the shadow of the trees at the clearing's edge, her mind reeling in shock by what she had just witnessed. Her body was still exhausted, she stumbled back a step and rested against a tree, frozen in silent horror.

"Sarah?" he called out. There was a frantic energy about him that she had never noticed before, it showed in every movement of his body, the way the firelight glinted off his skin. Jareth surveyed the trees once more and shouted, "Sarah!"

Jareth had killed the changeling more viciously than any horror movie Sarah had ever seen, and so easily too. Despite the fact it was evil, terrifying, it had taken the form of a small child. That alone made witnessing its death terrible enough. Sarah was grateful for the monster's destruction, but chilled by the violence of it.

Sarah wasn't sure how long she stood against that tree, perhaps seconds or hours, her mind replaying the terror of the last day, unable to believe it was over. Her heart felt like it was bursting in her chest. She could have stayed that way forever, catatonic, all heartbeat and breath and fatigue. The only thing that brought her out was the rapidly rising sounds of distress in the distance.

"Jareth?" she whispered, blinking against her own pain, trying to focus on his.

In the clearing, Jareth was reeling. He had tugged at his feathery hair in panic, making it spike and frizz even more than in the aftermath of his fight.

"Sarah!" he shouted again, moving in a frenzied sprint between the trees. He said her name one more time, quieter. He was giving up. For the first time since she'd known him, Sarah could swear she saw the slightest glints of tears in the corners of his eyes. That glimmer was nothing compared to the fresh grief on his face. He looked utterly destroyed. Then it struck her. _He thinks I'm dead, _she thought.

"I'm here," Sarah said hoarsely, pushing herself off of the tree trunk in one shaky step. Jareth hadn't heard her. She stepped into the clearing, he wasn't facing her. His breathing was harsh and broken. Sarah moved even closer. "I'm here."

Jareth whipped around to see her standing right behind him. His eyes were wild, terrified, and he was staring at her as if she were an apparition. Sarah closed the distance between then and caught his face between her hands and made him meet her eyes as she caressed his skin. She said one final time, "I'm here..."

To prove it, Sarah reached within the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out his knife. She brought it to her palm and readied herself to make the cut, but Jareth stopped her, forcing her to drop the weapon to the forest floor.

All the pain, worry, and terror of the nightmarish last day were gone. None of it mattered anymore. At that point it was all Sarah's inner teen could do not to parade around in triumph when his arms encircled her and pulled her close. The only things that were real were the sound of his breathing, the heat of his skin, the complete and total rightness of what was happening. In that moment for Sarah, something clicked.

Jareth was kissing her and she was kissing him back.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thanks to all of those who read and either reviewed, followed, or made this story a favorite. Another shout out to those who stuck with the story through that month long gap without updates, I truly appreciate it. Please read and review.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **Much to my dismay, Labyrinth is not mine. It belongs to Jim Henson, George Lucas, Brian Froud, David Bowie etc.

**Author's Note: **I know this update has been a long time coming, but I finished it just in time for midterms! Thank you once again for all the favorites, follows, and reviews and sticking with the story through this period of inconsistent updates. Please read and review, I'll try to get the next chapter up by the end of the week.

"Falling"

Sarah had dreamed about this. It had been impossible not to in the aftermath of her first adventure in the Underground. Innocent, adolescent fantasies about how he would kiss her had been a plague in her mind since the she was fifteen, quelled over time with age and realism. He certainly had not done it in the way she had imagined he would. She had expected a slow seduction, words purred in her ear, teasing and building up to the moment.

This was so much better.

It was every bit as perfect as she had imagined, but nothing like it at all. Jareth held her too tightly, as if expecting her to disappear at any given moment, crushing her against his chest, his hands roaming her every inch. Sarah responded with the same violent urgency, every movement of her mouth on his was frantic, passionate, and terrified. Her fingers dug into his hair, which was surprisingly soft, pulling his face to hers, so that he could not stop, never stop, kissing her. The initial shock of seeing her alive was wearing off, Jareth loosened his grip, but not by much. Instead he feathered a series of small kisses along her jawline, finding a spot beneath her ear that made her hold him tighter, kiss him harder.

"Sarah," he murmured in between kisses, over and over, "sweet, precious, Sarah."

"Yes," she whispered, unsure of why she even said it.

When Jareth started to kneel, pulling her along with him, she went happily. Her arms wound around his neck to pull him close for another mind numbing kiss. Sarah shook all over as her mind rushed and her legs moved to straddle his lap. His answering moan as she pressed flush against him encouraged her to continue. She could feel every plane, every angle of his body. Sarah leaned back, her long hair trailing in the leaves that scattered the foliage of the swamp floor. Jareth's hands were on her waist, he lowered her down before following, covering her body with his.

Sarah was only vaguely aware of the frantic, desperate noises falling from her mouth as he kissed her senseless. It was too perfect, she could get drunk off of kisses like this.

"Jareth," she whispered as he broke away, lifting a hand to his cheek. He met her eyes just as his name fell from her lips and turned his face to kiss her palm.

He was saying her name again, worshipping each syllable. Sarah wound her fingers in his hair, savoring its softness.

Sarah turned her head, giving him better access to kiss hollow of her throat. For a fraction of a moment she opened her eyes, and stared directly at the flaming body of the hobgoblin changeling. It's eyes were still open, devoid of an iris, and its mouth a black, gaping hole. It's body was charring quickly, already burning to the bone. Sarah could not shake the feeling that it was looking directly at her.

A cold laugh and a splitting headache flashed in her mind. Sarah moaned at the sudden pain in her skull and squirmed beneath Jareth's kisses.

"Oh, love," he whispered, kissing her collarbone, his hand ghosting up and down her side.

White light exploded behind her eyelids, bright, powerful, and warm. Sarah breathed in sharply at the sudden change. Without so much as a warning, it extinguished, instead, through the darkness, white, blank eyes stared and someone giggled madly, a lunatic's laugh.

_Mine, all mine._

She gasped in a choke of air and snapped her head away. Jareth didn't notice, he was too busy pulling at her dress, exposing her shoulder and caressing it with his fingertips before placing an open-mouthed kiss on the burning skin, sweet nothings pouring from his mouth with every caress. Her breath quickened, she arched against him, fear momentarily forgotten. The eyes flashed once more.

"Jareth," she said, her voice rising as the dead monster stared on, "Stop!"

"What?" he asked, vaguely stunned, his voice drowsy with lust, against her skin before kissing her again. "Sarah…"

"I mean it," she insisted and pushed him to the side, rolling him off of her. "Off."

Jareth looked confused as he stared up at her. She was shaking and fearful. It was all bubbling up.

"Sarah, is something wrong?" he asked, standing and brushing himself off. He walked closer to her, smoothing his hands down her arms, running his fingers through her hair. It was all so distracting, so wonderful. For a moment Sarah almost gave in. She leaned into his embrace and breathed in his scent. _I'd forgotten how good he smells, _she thought, resting her forehead against his breastbone as he kissed the crown of her head.

Then the eyes flashed into her mind again. Open, white, and horrible. Someone cackled inside her head, cruel and dark. Sarah drew back with a gasp. The hobgoblin's stolen form struggling against Jareth's powerful hold, still small and plump with baby fat overwhelmed her thoughts in flashes. The crunch of bones snapping and the stench of its corpse burning overcame her. She dropped to the ground and retched.

"Sarah!"

Jareth knelt beside her, pulling her sodden hair back from her neck and rubbing a soothing pattern on her back.

"It's all right, precious," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck as she sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth.

"No," Sarah said, shocked to find her voice almost teary. "It's not all right. Those things almost killed me. That thing almost killed _you_."

"But it didn't," he replied, his voice still maddeningly soft.

"I saw you kill it," Sarah said in a small voice.

Jareth frowned and Sarah was sure he had more than just a simple notion of how much it disturbed her. "We'll make camp for the night. You need to sleep."

Sarah shook her head in disagreement, making herself dizzy. "It's okay. I don't have to, we can walk—"

Before she could finish, he swept her up into his arms, leaned down to shoulder the bag, and began walking.

"Jareth, put me down," Sarah said, a notable whine in her voice, but she made no attempt to fight him.

"You're exhausted, Sarah," he said, tightening his grip on her. He allowed himself to kiss her forehead. She flinched. When she looked at him, uncertain, he glanced away, the hurt in his eyes unbearable.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, burring her face against his shoulder. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Don't talk," he whispered, surprisingly tender. "You need rest."

Sarah allowed herself to relax for a moment, her head on his chest, listening to his heart. Her blood was still rushing. Lust, fear, and exhaustion made her head pound, and Sarah could swear that she felt another episode coming on, just in the back of her head. The memory of the maniacal laughter terrified her, was she really so tired to hallucinate something that frightening?

Jareth stopped walking and set her down beside a tree trunk before he began rummaging through the bag to cover her with a woolen blanket. His hands brushed her bare shoulders from where her dress was still pushed down and she shook with unfulfilled desire. It took every ounce of free will she had not to pull him down with her.

"Why?" Sarah whispered, her thoughts drifting between horror and pleasure, terror and hope.

"Why what, princess?" he asked, smoothing a hand across her brow.

"I don't deserve you to—"

He shushed her and ran his hand along her cheek, brushing away a tear. "Sleep."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"It's all right," he whispered back, humming under his breath. He ran his hand over her brow in a soothing rhythm. "Sleep, Sarah. Dream pleasant dreams."

"If you say so," she mumbled drowsily.

Sarah heard him chuckle, deep and warm. _Oh God, I'm falling in love with him, _she mused, _why does that make me so afraid? _It was the last conscious thought before she fell into another nightmare.

* * *

Sarah awoke with a start, a sheen of sweat covered her skin. It was still the dead of night, but a fire now burned, small and bright, on the cleared ground. Jareth sat beside it, his back to her, staring pensively in the flames. She took a moment to admire his shape, the gracefulness in every tiny motion, the way the firelight danced on his hair.

She felt much better after a few hours of sleep, her body ached in places she didn't even know she had muscles, but she no longer felt sick. Slowly, Sarah stood, pulling the wool blanket around her shoulders. Jareth looked up at her as she approached the fire.

"You were right," she said, sitting across from him. "I needed the sleep."

Jareth smirked as if to say, "I told you so."

"What are you doing up?" Sarah asked, holding her fingers over the blaze. Delicious warmth swept over her skin.

"I wasn't sure if you'd killed all the fairies," he explained. "I thought I'd keep watch."

"Thank you," she whispered. "You look tired."

"I'm perfectly fine," he said, poking at the flame with a small twig, sending a small cascade of sparks into the night.

"Here." Sarah stood and walked closer to him, shrugging the blanket from her shoulders as she went and draping it around him. It reminded her of the morning after he'd flown through her window, bits of pale skin gleaming, a blanket wrapped around him like a robe. Even with the dark circles beneath his eyes and the sullied state of his clothing, Sarah had never seen him look so beautiful.

She retreated to her earlier seat, a safe distance. Memories of his kisses still floated through her mind, indulgent thoughts that made her heart leap, but Sarah was unsure of where they stood. It had been a moment of weakness for him, she knew. Perhaps he did not wish to continue.

"Jareth, you should sleep," she said, searching for something to say to break the silence. "I can stay up, keep watch for you."

"You could," he mused, not looking at her. "But you shouldn't, not now. You deserve to rest."

"So do you," she answered.

Jareth snorted with laughter. "I haven't truly rested in years, I'm not about to start."

Sarah tilted her head, studying him. "Do you like it? Being king, I mean," she asked, uncertain why. Small talk had never been her forte.

"Occasionally," he said, prodding the fire with a loose twig. "More often than not it's…well let's call it unpleasant, and lonely, and…" he paused and smiled, "but God help me, I couldn't abide parting with the little demons."

"How'd you get the job?" she asked. "Did you inherit it or something?"

Somehow it was difficult imagining Jareth with parents.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I don't remember."

"Well, how long have you been Goblin King?"

He thought for a moment, a look of peculiar realization on his face. "I don't know."

Sarah felt a twinge of sympathy rise in her chest. She smiled at him and scooted an inch closer, almost touching. "Let's say you get a vacation, anywhere, Aboveground or Underground. Where would you go?"

"Around Soho, most likely. In your world, in London's West End," he replied, meeting her eyes with a seductive glance, "It sounds terribly exciting."

Sarah's heart sped up a bit, but she managed to laugh. "Wow, you really are a pervert, aren't you?"

Jareth laughed with her, but when he leaned in to grasp her hand, she inched it away ever so slightly. Her emotions were still running high, she couldn't risk another episode that his kisses had brought on. _If he holds my hand, I'll jump his bones, _she thought with a bit of guilt at the brief flicker of uncharacteristic confusion on his face.

"Sarah," he said, gently stroking the wool of the blanket, his eyes far away. A frown tugged at the corners of his lips. When he spoke, it was the softest whisper, "Are you afraid of me?"

Sarah curled her knees to her chest and said, "You terrify me."

_You make me feel such beautiful, terrible things, _she thought, _you were supposed to be the villain, you were supposed to disappear. _

"I see," he said softly.

"No, Jareth, that isn't what I—"

He held up a hand, signifying for her to stop. "It's all right," Jareth rose. "If you don't mind, I think I'll sleep for an hour or so. I'm sorry I frightened you."

Sarah watched, mouth agape, as he walked over to where the leather bag rested against the leaf covered trunk of a tree, he leaned back against it, the woolen blanket lay forgotten to the side.

"But you didn't," she whispered.

It didn't matter, Jareth was already asleep.


End file.
